An Alternative Prophecy
by Don E. Delivery
Summary: AU. When Sybill Trelawney recites her first prophecy a bit differently, the effects are far-reaching. An orphan girl is raised by her Aunt and Uncle along with her overbearing older cousin, eagerly anticipating the day she can leave them all behind, while a raven-haired boy grows up in his father's shadow, dreaming of making his own destiny once he reaches his parent's alma mater.
1. Prologue: Part One

_**An Alternative Prophecy**_

_written by __**Don E. Delivery**_

_(thanks, in part, to an awful-ly good plot bunny from __**Xandrel**__)_

**with ASSISTANCE from**

**DLP**

**Summary:**

_AU. When Sybill Trelawney recites her first prophecy a bit differently, the effects are far-reaching. An orphan girl is raised by her Aunt and Uncle along with her overbearing older cousin, eagerly anticipating the day she can leave them all behind, while a raven-haired boy grows up in his father's shadow, dreaming of making his own destiny once he reaches his parent's alma mater... _

_Eventual Fem!Draco/Harry, Fem!Voldemort..._

**Genre(s):**

_Action - Adventure - (Minimal) Romance _

**Author's Note**

_This is nothing like anything I've written before. Its not like anything I've read before either. Rowling deserves the credit, of course, I'm just reimagining the characters._

_I've split the Prologue into multiple chapters to keep everyone from struggling through one giant chapter of 40,000 words. Essentially, the Prologue is written from multiple POVs including Snape, Dumbledore, Sirius and our lady Voldemort. _

_Yes, you read that correctly. This story features Lady Voldemort and Celeste Malfoy, the Girl Who Lived. Harry is not the Chosen One, as the prophecy mentioned the Malfoy family rather than Lily and James. There are quite a few similarities to canon, but I consider this a complete AU. _

_Anything you haven't seen before came straight from me (and Xandrel, who originally devised the words to the prophecy and was vilified for it before I turned them into something that's, hopefully, worth your time). _

**Please leave a review. I'd really like to know what you guys think!**

**-Don**

* * *

><p><em><strong>"<strong>__Maligned Stars, Magnificent Hearts,_

_Misadventures, Malicious and Dark,_

_A Maltreated Mother, Marred in Her Sadness,_

_and Lady Maleficent, Mortal Through Madness..._

_Maligned Hearts, Magnificent Stars,_

_When Maladroit Monarchs Pontificate Czars,_

_An Encompassing Threat, Elizabeth,_

_Will Finally Settle her Debt..."_

_**-**__ Celebrated Poet and Wizard, Donovan Delaney_

* * *

><p><em><strong>"...<strong>__while organized terror plagued Britain for most of a decade, it would take twice as long to return our government, and more importantly, its misled citizens, to any semblance of normalcy. Law-abiding witches and wizards too afraid to speak Her name were swayed to Her side in order to save their own lives. An entire generation of Hogwarts students were morally corrupted, two dozen Aurors put to death, entire wizarding families disappeared, and more than a thousand Muggle lives were washed from the Earth as if they had never existed. _

_Under her tyrannical rule, the Knights of Walpurgis flourished, and her vice-like grip on society only grew with time, until it seemed inevitable that the Dark Lady would become Queen of Magical Britain, conquering a Ministry that had functioned autonomously for half of a thousand years..._

_Then, against all odds, surrounded by a contingent of her own followers, She Who Must Not Be Named vanished..."_

_**-**__Page 46 of the 12th Edition of Wizard's Fall: A Historical Perspective_

* * *

><p><span><strong>PROLOGUE<strong>

_**THE ONE **__with the power the Dark Lady desires approaches ... _

Severus Snape repeated the ominous sounding words under his breath. He scanned the townsfolk milling about the tavern briefly, searching for anyone with spying eyes before casting his own eyes downward. He had his black cloak pulled up past the top of his ears in an admittedly poor attempt to hide his face from view. He spared no thought for the soaking sensation spreading through his socks and shoes, only the inevitable shout of distress from inside the bar.

_Dumbledore saw me, _Snape thought worriedly. _I must be quick. _

His desperation momentarily showed in his quicker, more determined stride, but his thoughts dutifully returned to his mantra, his lips forming the words over and over.

_The one with the power the Dark Lady desires..._

His expression was exceedingly ill-tempered as he slipped through the silent darkness, headed for the Apparition point in the center of Hogsmeade. Severus was dangerously angry, and his mood matched the thunderstorm brewing overhead; however, the unseasonably cold weather was far from his troubled mind. Tonight, Severus had finally found information that would land him in the Dark Lady's inner circle, where her most devout followers inevitably wound up after they had proven themselves trustworthy.

He had never been one to crave power for its own sake, and the only respect Severus had earned thus far had come at the expense of another man's blood, but he could not deny the jolt of excitement that ran through his body when he heard Trelawney's prophecy. Riches beyond his wildest dreams were in reach, and Snape listened with rapt attention as Dumbledore stumbled backward, one hand pressed over his mouth in an attempt to keep back his aghast expression.

_...born to those who have never defied her, born as the seventh month dies..._

Snape had been surveying Dumbledore per the Dark Lady's orders and it was obvious to him that the Headmaster thought little of Trelawney. His mannerisms suggested that, while Sybill looked confident she was getting a job, Dumbledore was going to pleasantly offer her a free drink and nothing more. From what Severus could recall, Trelawney had been an average student in school and a Hufflepuff to boot; she had spent most of her years at Hogwarts telling stories about her great, great Grandmother, who, as far as Severus could divine, had been just as full of shit as Sybill.

However, the slight wind that fluttered around the bar as she spoke and the intense, mechanical voice that poured from her mouth and caused the hairs on his arms to stand up made it nigh on certain that this prophecy was true. Severus' estimation of the wild-haired witch rose faster than anyone could have predicted. If he wasn't mistaken (and he rather doubted he was), The Dark Lady would reward him well for this!

_... and the Dark Lady will mark her as her equal, but she will have power the Dark Lady does not..._

Snape leaned forward on the balls of his feet, his keen eyes following every move of Trelawney's lips. Then, without warning, the doors to the Hogs Head slammed shut in front of his face, and Snape found himself lying on the ground, his back and rear end smothered in wet clay. From the otherside of the doorway, he could see Dumbledore's attention momentarily divert, and the piercing look the Headmaster faced him with scared him far more than he cared to admit; immediately, he knew he had to tell the Dark Lady, and he set off down the street, intent on evading capture long enough to do just that.

He knew he would have to be swift to outrun Dumbledore, who had seen his former student spying on the conversation, but anything more than a brisk walk would draw the attention of the auror sentinels placed at each exit, as well as the single Apparition point in the center of town. Barty Crouch had been adamant that the whole of Hogsmeade be placed under an Anti-Apparition jinx, and Severus grudgingly admitted that it had been an expert strategy to counter Death Eater activity in the area. With Apparition rendered impossible for the average citizen, and the Knight Bus placed on standby after the death of its only driver, the Floo Network became the only quick route into town.

Bellatrix had suggested a full-scale attack on the Apparition point, and Snape had just barely bit his tongue, having been on the verge of agreeing with her, when the Dark Lady snapped off a _Cruciatus _curse for her most loyal follower. No one had been brave enough to make the same suggestion twice.

The Dark Lady, smirking at the sight of Bellatrix writhing on the floor, had remarked that Crouch would be allowed to have his fun for now, as she did not plan to attack Hogsmeade until after the Ministry had fallen. It was her plan to sow discord among their upper echelons, guiding Death Eaters into positions of power, before taking over the Ministry Headquarters in London. That would open up a world of opportunity for the Knights, as the Lady liked to refer to them.

However, the Dark Lady had not become the most feared witch in the land overnight; while her patience was not one of her more admirable traits, she knew she had to wait for the best moment to strike. She also knew a full-scale attack on the aurors in their natural surroundings would require a loss of life on her side. Although the Dark Lady was more than vicious enough to send her followers to their deaths, even killing a few unlucky Death Eaters herself, she determined that the odds were not yet in her favor. As long as there were auror outposts defending the other important locales in the British Wizarding World, those sites would be well-protected, and that could only lead to a less fortified Ministry building. An attack as a diversion would solve the problem, but only one thing could draw all of the Ministry's aurors away from the Ministry long enough to take control:

The Dark Lady would have to attack Hogwarts.

While Snape felt confident that the Death Eaters were more than prepared for an attack on Hogwarts, if not yet the Ministry outright, he was not foolish enough to share his doubts in the Dark Lady's presence. She believed that Hogwarts would be the centerpiece of her new regime as she crafted a world where, if he lived long enough, Snape would find himself at the top of the social pecking order. He had been unable to get a job suitable for his skills despite his prodigious proficiency with Potions, and the Dark Lady had offered him a position. She promised him unlimited access to materials and free reign to _get creative _with his ingredients. His Mistress implied that he use Muggles for experiments, but he had not yet been brave enough to cook other human beings.

Their hair, fingernails and teeth would suffice for now.

Severus cast a nervous glance around himself as he entered the Apparition area. He recognized one auror in particular, a black-haired man named Dunivant that Snape knew from Death Eater meetings, and he deliberately stepped toward the man. The mousy-looking chap asked him shakily for his identification, and Snape glared imperiously at his comrade while the auror pretended to check his wand. The Dark Lady had recruited one of the Auror watchmen to keep track of the Hogsmeade citizens, and the weak-willed and nearly worthless Dunivant spared Snape an awkward smile, one that fell flat as Snape continued glaring at him.

"Good evening, Mr. Severus Snape. The Ministry of Magic requires a brief, entirely professional search of your belongings before any Apparition takes place in this area. It is my responsibility to remove any articles I deem dangerous or unfit for travel. I am required to take you into custody if you refuse this search or if you are caught with any contraband materials, including, but not limited to..." He continued on at length, obviously reciting something he had been forced to memorize. Snape was on the verge of blasting his fellow Death Eater aside, and he looked nervously over his shoulder to make sure there was no one coming. "Before I begin, are you carrying any items I should be aware of?"

Snape said nothing, fearful that Dunivant would turn his comment into a longer conversation. Instead, Severus resumed repeating the words of the prophecy over and over in his mind. Dunivant, seemingly bothered by Snape's silence, shrugged and set to work. Of course, Snape was carrying some rather volatile potions and ingredients, as well as a dagger hidden on his right thigh, but other than a brief bulge of the eyes, Dunivant did nothing to stop Snape from entering the Apparition zone.

"You are free to go, sir," he said, winking where only Snape could see it; annoyed by Dunivant's carelessness, Snape had half a mind to berate the new recruit, but he kept his focus on remembering the lines of the prophecy word for word. "On behalf of the Ministry of Magic, I wish you a-"

Snape ignored his compatriot, and the rush of displaced air in his ears made it difficult to hear anything besides the beating of his heart. His lungs threatened to burst as his magic transfigured him and propelled him across mainland Britain, depositing him almost instantaneously at the edge of an impressive manor house.

The Dark Lady had chosen the Malfoy's ancestral home as her own residence, but Snape assumed that Lucius and Bellatrix, as well as their families, would all be in attendance. Whipping his wand forward, Snape's Patronus, a doe, swept through the front of the house. He watched the ghostly figure dissipate with a look of regret on his face, but he made no move to follow, well-aware of the multitude of protections the Malfoy's had placed on their home. Within seconds, a house elf was in front of Severus, cowering noticeably. Snape sneered, demanding entry to the house.

"Dobby is terribly sorry, sir, but..." he trailed off, his feeble hands rubbing together nervously. His voice was weak, and his bug eyes were innocent, a sure sign that he was young; Snape barely held back from kicking the young elf, who couldn't be more than two years old. His eyes would be far harder, far more judgmental in his adulthood, a product of a life lived in servitude. "I must be asking who is here to see Master Lucius!" Dobby squeaked, smiling nervously.

Snape wondered to himself how the house elf was even capable of serving a ruthlessly harsh family like the Malfoys; indeed, as Snape watched him scramble to tell his master of his very important guest, he couldn't help but think the childlike elf was destined to a life of ridicule and severe punishment, if not torture and an early death. While he had no great love for elves, he found himself oddly concerned for Dobby, who would most likely never leave the harsh reality of the Malfoy's magnificent manor.

"Dobby, you _half-wit_," a voice said, opening the door. It was Narcissa Malfoy, clad in a black evening gown that draped over her pregnant belly like a curtain over an oblong trunk. She kicked out the elf, who had plenty of time to avoid her foot but took the punishment in stride, falling to the ground in a heap. "Fetch the wine," she commanded the elf. "We have _a guest_." Snape noticed its lip was bleeding just before it disappeared with a barely audible crack.

"You're always welcome in our home, Severus!" she simpered, facing Snape with an indulgent smile. "_Do_ come in. I'm sure you have the most _intriguing _story to tell us..."

Narcissa made an attempt at small talk as Snape followed her into the manor proper. He noted that his former classmate was beginning to have some difficulty walking, a product of the growing child in her stomach. It wouldn't be many more months before she was giving birth and, as of late, Lucius himself had been bragging about finally having an heir.

As he pondered their situation, Snape felt a brief, unexplained bout of nausea. He fought the urge to scratch his head, wondering if something was wrong with him. Despite himself, Severus began to think that following Dumbledore hadn't been such a good idea. Maybe his nerves were beginning to get to him.

A few minutes passed as they traversed the rather long staircase down into the lower levels of the manor. In the silent hall, Narcissa whispered, "Did you find out anything? Dumbledore was supposed to be meeting a contact-"

"Save it," Snape snapped, his black eyes trained on Narcissa. "No one else can know until _She_ knows..."

The blonde-haired witch looked offended he hadn't obliged her, but at his second comment, she nodded begrudgingly. "I understand," she muttered, turning at the intersection of two halls. "My Lady awaits..." Snape knew his way forward, but he let her continue to lead, as he was unwilling to put up with her insistent, searching glances. Back when they were in school, he had found Narcissa rather attractive, but far removed from Hogwarts and permanently stuck up Lucius' arse, Snape found her presence irritating, if not entirely unbearable.

They rounded a few more corners before Narcissa spoke again. "Here we are," she said unnecessarily, waving one hand at an old, partially rusted door. She knocked twice before she opened it, and Snape's heart twisted painfully at the sound of his Mistress' voice.

"Enter."

Her words were calmly spoken, and perhaps they would have sounded friendly to a neutral observer, but Snape could sense the underlying urgency in the Dark Lady's tone. Any delay on his part would be deemed enough of a betrayal to receive a torture curse as punishment, but he tried not to rush into the room either; if there was one thing she had ingrained in him, it was that nerves were made to be flayed from's an enemy's body, not _expressed _on a follower's face. If she sensed that he was worried about the revelations to come, or that he was hiding something from her, his punishment would be far worse than if he told her something she didn't want to hear.

Narcissa ushered him into the room with a grimace, her eyes screaming for him to hurry. With that same sickening feeling in his gut that he had felt following Narcissa through the entrance hall, Snape faced a far more vicious and vivacious woman, one who would not take no for an answer. Heat was rising up his neck as the Dark Lady smiled at him, and he struggled not to scan his eyes across her partially exposed chest, nor to look at her pale but inviting left leg where it split her dress. He trained himself to focus only on her eyes, red-rimmed and full of malice.

Dobby appeared, holding a serving plate carrying four glasses of red wine, and his eyes sought Narcissa's face. A barely concealed snarl had him shakily placing the wine onto a neighboring table and popping away in fear. Rolling her eyes, Narcissa served the Dark Lady herself, taking great care to ignore her husband in the process. A thin, delectable smile crossed the Dark Lady's pale face, assuredly at the expense of Lucius, whose eyes narrowed noticeably.

Snape found the situation he was walking in on quite amusing, but his mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of prophecy to make a smart comment. He wisely remained silent until the Dark Lady commanded him to speak.

"Severus," she greeted, rising to her feet to embrace him as if she had just noticed him walking in. "We've been expecting you..." Her dark lips were in his ear immediately, and her strong hands held him in place. "What news?" she whispered, her breath warm against his cold skin.

Snape was reminded of a feminine presence from long ago, and a part of himself that he desperately wished to hide from the Dark Lady almost showed on his face. He shivered noticeably, drawing a curious glance from Narcissa, standing behind the Dark Lady, who did not see their exchange. She stepped back, admiring him as an old aunt would a toddler. Severus felt like a child, incapable of movement in his Mistress' vice-like grip.

"Judging by your silence, I'll assume our venerable Headmaster has not succumbed to old age?"

Lucius chuckled darkly. "If only we could be so lucky..."

"In time, my _love_," the Dark Lady said, releasing Snape and glancing coyly at Narcissa, who was clever enough to stay silent. "It is not a matter of luck, but time." When no one immediately said anything, her smile disappeared. "Pray don't _waste _that time, Severus," she said, her eyes snapping back to Snape, who deflated visibly. "_Speak_," she commanded.

"As you know, My Lady, Dumbledore was scheduled for an important meeting at the Hogs Head; however, his contact," he trailed off, pausing for impact, "was _not _Alastor Moody as Rookwood suggested. Albus was interviewing a potential Professor-"

"Albus?" Lucius scoffed audibly. "Since when are _you two_ on a first name basis?"

The Dark Lady shut Malfoy up with a quelling glance, waving one long-fingered hand for Snape to keep going. "Go on," she insisted, her charming demeanor returning to some extent. "Who does our esteemed Headmaster have in mind to replace the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor this year?" Lucius and Narcissa chuckled; the curse that the Dark Lady had placed on the position had been an incredible feat, one that every Death Eater was well-aware and proud of.

"My Lady," Severus began, "Dumbledore was not there to hire a _Defense_ Professor. Sybill Trelawney, great, great granddaughter to Cassandra, has applied for the Divination post..."

"And why is this of concern?" Lucius had one sharp eyebrow raised, making it plain that he didn't care for Snape's tale. Severus knew that Malfoy had developed a strong dislike for him, perhaps stemming from their Hogwarts' days; Snape had been a half-blood Potions prodigy just joining the Death Eaters, and Malfoy, an heir to one of the richest Pureblood families, had already been well on his way to becoming a Knight.

There was a vast divide between the two of them as far as the Dark Lady was concerned, and Lucius had never been one to take a new recruit under his wing without something of his own to gain from it. Snape had been ridiculed by Rodolphus, Lucius and Rabastan for the better part of two years before he was grudgingly accepted to the fold, but that had not been the end of Malfoy belittling him. Snape found himself too distracted to be peeved by the man's dismissal of his story; this was made easier by the fact that Severus knew Lucius would _die_ to have this information. He faced the blonde, emotionless but for the glare in his black eyes.

"It is far more important than you could _possibly _imagine," Snape said quietly.

"How so?" Again, Lucius was disbelieving. "Divination hasn't been taught by someone with the Second Sight in _four decades_, and Sybill Trelawney, for all of her tales to the contrary, is _no _Seer.."

"I will not ask you again, Lucius," the Dark Lady snapped, her fingers coming to touch her wand in an outward display of her anger. "Severus... _get to the point_."

This time, Snape did as she requested. "For what it's worth," he sneered at Lucius, "_Dumbledore_ did not seem impressed by her either, and I'm certain he was about to leave, when she did something entirely unexpected - My Lady, she gave a _true _prophecy..."

For the first time, his words peaked the Dark Lady's interest. "What did she say?" she whispered; Snape was not inclined to ignore the promise of pain hidden in her words if he didn't answer. He spoke in a slow monotone, as if he was reading Potions' ingredients off of a list, though he was reciting words he had knew he would never forget.

_"The one with the power the Dark Lady desires approaches ... born to those who have never defied her, born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lady will mark her as her equal, but she will have power the Dark Lady does not..."_

As he finished, he felt his nerves getting the best of him once again, and he redoubled his efforts to contain his shaky, fearful body language; fortunately, his Mistress did not seem to care for Severus' inner struggle. The Dark Lady was silent for a long time, such that Snape had the sudden urge to ask her if she would like him to repeat the prophecy. She didn't move a muscle, not even in her face or jaw, as she contemplated the meaning behind the words. Snape didn't dare look at Lucius, unwilling to lose a moment to defend himself if it was necessary. His attention remained fixed on his Mistress.

"That is all?" she asked, giving him a searching glance. Inevitably, her dark eyes found his, and like a moth to a flame, he drank in the sight of the beauty before him, unconsciously submitting to her desire for knowledge. However, in the debilitating moment, Snape was too afraid to answer yes _or_ no; he wasn't sure that a denial wouldn't condemn him to death, as he'd missed a potentially integral part of the prophecy when Dumbledore expelled him from the Hogs' Head, but he felt disinclined to answer the former, which would be outright lying - a suicidal decision, considering the Dark Lady could pluck information out of her followers heads as easily as grapes from a vine.

In the end, Elizabeth insured that Snape's mind was made up for him.

"Show me," the Dark Lady commanded, standing and drawing him into that same uncomfortably tight embrace once more. He tried to hide his shiver of fear, tried to ignore the way his heart slammed against his chest, but it was all for naught; the Dark Lady would know the truth, and there was no point in hiding it from her. His admittedly strong Occlumency still could not withstand her brutal Legilimency, and any secrets would only get him killed. He forced himself to allow her full access, ignoring the part of him that rebelled against her entry. Unlike James Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Severus knew that rebellion against the Dark Lady could only end in death.

He felt himself pulled from his own mind, his psyche fractured by the magical current, and to him, it seemed as if he was inside a pensieve, watching his memory of the events leading up to his removal from the Hogs Head. He could sense the Dark Lady's intentions, but he did very little to prevent her from reading his thoughts and feeling his emotions. To act in such a manner would have been suicidal for Severus, who struggled not to react to the mental barrage coming from his Mistress.

Then, just when he thought he would faint from the pressure building under his scalp, the sensation ended and the pain abated. The stark, sudden absence of the Dark Lady in his mind left him in a heap on the floor, though no one reached to break his fall or even to make any mention of it. They all waited fearfully for the Dark Lady's reaction. Snape rose back to his feet unsteadily, but he trained himself, as always, to keep his emotions off of his face. Severus was even more frightened than the Malfoys, and nearly as scared as he had been in his entire life. He had no way of knowing how the Dark Lady would take his news of the prophecy.

_Surely she wouldn't blame the messenger?_

Calmly, the Dark Lady seated herself once more, seemingly enjoying the feel of the luxurious couch as her exquisite figure sank into the leather. She sighed, a faint smile playing at the edge of her lips, though her eyes were harder than he had ever seen them. When Severus watched her murder the McKinnons she hadn't seemed this scary.

"She will have power the Dark Lady _does not_..." she whispered. There was no doubt the prophecy referred to her, and she accepted that with more calm than Severus expected. Then, a sibilant hiss slipped from her mouth, "_She _will have a power the Dark Lady _desires..._"

"My Lady?" Lucius asked, his voice eerily quiet in the silent room.

"Leave me," she muttered, closing her eyes. "You have done splendidly, Severus. You will be rewarded _handsomely _for your service." He couldn't help the shiver that ran up his spine at her softly-spoken words. Just as he turned to walk away, she added, "My Knight."

No one questioned their abrupt dismissal, not even Lucius, who owned the home they were in. Snape's eyes tried to find Lucius' face, but Malfoy was quick to leave the room, quicker than even Severus himself.

As he left the room, Snape was inwardly pleased that his Mistress had finally called him a Knight. His revelation had, as he expected, landed him firmly in the Dark Lady's good graces, and he was finally a member of her inner circle of followers. While his workload would increase significantly now that he had more responsibility, so would his pockets, his vault and, he thought with a sneer, his sense of superiority.

In the darkness of the hallway, Snape smiled. He did not see Lucius' worried glance back to the room where they had left the Dark Lady. He did not notice Narcissa rub her belly nervously. Snape did not look back as he left the manor, headed for a well-earned night of rest at Spinner's End.

* * *

><p><em>-End of Prologue, Part One-<em>


	2. Prologue: Part Two

**PART TWO**

That night, Lucius Malfoy was incapable of slumber.

He tossed and turned throughout the evening, despite his pregnant wife begging him to stop. Giving her a back massage hadn't been enough to calm her chilly mood either. He woke up a few hours after midnight, his hands clammy and his breathing hitched, an expected occurence given the revelations of the night. He had been plagued with nightmares, yet all he could remember now that he was awake was a faceless young woman with blonde hair, surrounded by darkness. He wondered if it was Narcissa haunting his dream, as the resemblance between his wife and this woman was striking.

For a long time, he simply stared at the white expanse of the ceiling above him, mesmerized by his dark, depressing thoughts.

He had always known that his young family would be at the center of a war, a rebellion that his father had helped instigate long before Lucius left Hogwarts. Lucius also knew that, if he survived, his son would one day be heir to the purest line of blood in Britain. Once Lucius became a Death Eater, initiated in a ritual performed by his own father, he knew that he could become _so much more_ than Abraxas ever was.

Where his father preferred a _financier's _approach to organized crime, Lucius had no qualms about quietly killing Muggles, controlling their magical offspring and pandering to goblins, werewolves and vampires. Of course, Lucius still matched his father's fervor for politics, and he had no problem rubbing shoulders with corrupt officials, paying off Wizengamot members or threatening those who seemed incapable of cooperation with the Death Eaters. Lucius' only concern was his own success.

If the Dark Lady's plans came to fruition, the Malfoys would be catapulted into fame and even greater fortune. Once his father passed, the fortune became his to treasure. Lucius knew if he played his cards right, Lady Elizabeth would make him the Minister of Magic once the Knights took over, and Lucius _always _played his cards right.

When he became a member of the Death Eaters, even after he became one of the Lady's Knights, he had not been interested in taking a wife so early in what would assuredly be a long, pleasure-filled life. He enjoyed being a bit of a playboy in his youth, bedding half a dozen witches before a chance encounter with Narcissa Black had changed his perspective.

Lady Elizabeth, already carving out a name as one of the most ruthlessly powerful witches in modern times, had deigned to speak with the Blacks, particularly Arcturus, who was a self-proclaimed admirer of the Dark Lady's strong-armed, Pureblood-promoting ways. As one of her loyal Knights, Abraxas Malfoy was invited by Elizabeth to be in attendance, and encouraged to bring his son along as well. Though honored to be asked by his father, Lucius found the occasion uninteresting, and only participated in conversation when it was expected of him. He had even been looking forward to taking his leave when young Narcissa Black waltzed downstairs in a lily white dress, her hair tied back in an intricate bun with just a hint of a self-assured smirk on her prim, pale face.

Lucius was instantly smitten.

The thin, wonderfully sculpted woman had been full of vigor and life, even at sixteen years old when they first met. Fortunately for him, she had been seated next to him at the table, and Lucius had to wonder if Arcturus had arranged the scene all along. Then again, as Narcissa's leg brushed up against his own, he found he had no reason to complain. A long glance at her mother, whose looks could cause a hag to flee in fear, still could not dissuade his heart from beating each time Narcissa caught his eye, and once she touched his hand under the dining table, he knew she considered him favorably too.

Bellatrix had cast a keen eye over the proceedings, but she knew that Abraxas Malfoy was one of the few full-blooded wizards remaining in Britain, and his son the only eligible bachelor within a thousand miles. Malfoy could have had a run at Bellatrix instead, but Rodolphus Lestrange, his much older classmate at Hogwarts, had already consulted her father about their marriage and, as she was the oldest (and most volatile) of three girls, the decrepit old man had accepted immediately.

Lucius was certain Bellatrix disagreed with the arrangement, but what right did she have to disregard her father's wishes? Even a woman as intelligent and powerful as Bella would be condemned if she rejected Rodolphus' advances. It was likely that she'd be burned from the Black family tapestry, a fate that was sure to befall Arcturus' second born daughter, Andromeda, who had been secretly dating a Muggleborn from Ravenclaw. Lucius had reckoned at the time that once the Black patriarch found out his favorite daughter was dating a Mudblood, their son Sirius' exile from their home was sure to be a distant memory.

Of course, in retrospect, Lucius had guessed correctly; it had not been long before Sirius had sided with James Potter, Dumbledore, and his Order of the Phoenix and began fighting against his own blood. Andromeda had indeed married into obscurity and, if pressed into service by either side, there was no doubt one which she would choose. Lucis thought he recalled her naming her half-blood child something ridiculous just to spite her mother.

While Lucius found Andromeda exceedingly plain, and the older Bellatrix a bit daunting as a marriage prospect, Narcissa was quite the opposite; with long, inviting legs and waist-length blonde hair, she resembled a Veela rather than her squat, unattractive mother. She was also quite adept at magic for a sixth year, but Narcissa wanted nothing more from life than to marry into money and have a flock of children that would put Arthur Weasley's developing brood to shame. Lucius had immediately decided to pursue her hand. By the time she graduated and they held the marriage ceremony, Abraxas had already passed, leaving more than a million galleons to his son.

After an extended honeymoon in southern France, Lucius had returned to take over his father's role in the Wizengamot. Lady Elizabeth had persuaded him to use his funds to her advantage, capitalizing on his father's death and Lucius' resulting moment in the spotlight, and Lucius now had a quarter of the members in his pocket despite Dumbledore's role as conductor. In fact, if the Headmaster of Hogwarts was ever to turn up dead (a fortuitous moment for the Knights of Walpurgis), there was a very good chance Lucius could take over his position. Imagining himself as Chief Warlock and Minister of Magic still gave him chills after all this time.

Lucius sighed, perhaps a touch miserably. It had all been a pipe dream, one of the last vestiges of his youthful exuberance. In the twilight, Lucius felt flat and devoid of emotion. If he remained in his beautiful, expansive manor, counting his gold coins and spreading his influence... well, he surmised he would be dead in less than a year. The word _unfair _registered in his mind, but he'd learned as a child that life was anything but fair, even for a child with the world at his fingertips.

A world that would soon be irrevocably torn from his grasp.

Lucius had been nothing but loyal to Elizabeth over the years, eliminating any enemies in her path and recruiting dozens of individuals to her cause. She had personally taught him the darkest of the Dark Arts, and he had excelled, savoring the opportunity to prove his dominance over the others. Years had passed in a blur, and sometimes he wondered where his youth had gone as he stared into a pale, listless face with sunken eyes, but then, he usually cast a spell to remove his stubble, polish his cheeks and chin and clear his red-rimmed eyes. Magic was a beautiful, terribly abusive, amazing, inevitably dangerous thing, and Malfoy _loved _it to the point of obsession.

By his own hand, Lucius had killed five men - three nameless Aurors and two turncoat Death Eaters, Marvin Harewood and Ina Ridgewater. Lucius thought wryly that the latter two had fully deserved his wrath; as he had invited them into the Dark Lady's coven, she had tortured _him_, and then told him to fixthe problem... or _else_. It did not take a wizard of Lucius' intelligence to recognize the threat in Elizabeth's words. They were lucky he didn't make them suffer.

As an influx of new members left the Knights struggling to house all the Death Eaters, Elizabeth cited the need for a larger space for her followers to convene. Narcissa had orginally suggested Elizabeth could use Malfoy manor for meetings, opening their home to the Dark Lady with grace and aplomb, but it wasn't long before Elizabeth had taken up residence in one of the spacious guest rooms, and now the Dark Lady had a veritable army of house elves and men at her beck and call all hours of the day. If Lucius wasn't so perturbed by her unexpected invasion of his home, he might have thought the situation humorous. As it was, he felt like one wrong move would end in his own death, not to mention that of his wife, and they were both pushed to the breaking point.

There was no doubt who ran the Malfoy household now that the Dark Lady was part of it. For Lucius, the situation had been unpleasant, but manageable; it certainly helped that Lucius had been so dedicated to Elizabeth over the years, and if he did want some peace and quiet, all he had to do was slip away into one of the dozens of rooms on the bottom floor. While his Lady was quite short with him and prone to giving him too much responsbility, it was far better than sharing Regulus Black's fate at the end of her wand.

He had thought himself safe as long as he served Elizabeth dutifully, but Severus had brought Lucius information that changed _everything _about his role in the Dark Lady's army, whether the _Half-blood Prince _knew it or not. Malfoy considered himself fortunate that the man had uttered the prophecy aloud rather than allowing the Dark Lady to simply view his memory of the experience. Otherwise, Lucius might have never known...

His thoughts blurred as his wife moaned next to him, telling him to stop breathing so hard. With her back to him, she didn't notice the trail of tears trickling down both sides of his face. He regained control of his emotions, but rather than slip into sleep, he fell back into his reverie.

Lucius and Narcissa had tried for years to conceive, but, despite the Healers repeated attempts, both of their children had died in childbirth. His wife suffered greatly for her efforts, as any woman would, carrying two children for nine months to watch them die in her arms. Her screams still haunted his memories, and in the silence of the manor, he could faintly hear his wife frantically, uselessly begging their son to breathe.

For a long time, they had both given up on having another child. Lucius was content to enjoy his young wife's unmarred body at his own leisure, and Narcissa seemed disinclined to repeat the process of joy and loss. Lucius had even begun to think it was impossible for them to become pregnant, and in one of his more inebriated moments, he had tried to use their impotence to his own advantage with... _surprising_ results. Nearly ten years after they had first met, on the eve of their eighth anniversary, Narcissa became pregnant for the third time.

Once it became evident that she was pregnant, Narcissa had gone along with Lucius' suggestion that their first child would be a boy. He rushed to assure her that, since the first two had been boys and Malfoy's father before him had only had a single boy, it was probable that their third attempt at a child would also yield a son. Whatever the outcome, Malfoy was determined that _this time, _he would be a proud and strong Papa. Narcissa's spirits were low compared to those of her husband, however, and she became more and more frantic as her belly grew, often panicking at the slightest twinge in her stomach and racking up a Healer bill that even Lucius had to blink twice at...

Just when his eyes began to droop and he finally slipped into blissful slumber, Lucius was shaken awake by the sound of his wife howling in misery. Instantly on the alert, he leapt over the side of the bed to find that she was merely having another bout of morning sickness; unfortunately, she hadn't made it out of the bed before she made a mess. "I'm so sorry, Lucius," she moaned, tears running out of both eyes. She sobbed, whether from embarrassment, agony, or both, Lucius couldn't tell. "I had a nightmare and..."

"It is quite alright, my love," he whispered, running his cool hands over her bare back. When she shivered, recoiling, he decided it must have been one hell of a nightmare. "Would you like a glass of water?" He waved his wand to _Scourgify _the sheets, and she shook her head, taking his spell as a cue to climb back into bed. She laid her head heavily back on the pillow and closed her eyes. He placed a kiss to her forehead, and her pinched expression became a slight smile.

"I'll be fine," she mumbled, looking quite pale in the pre-dawn light. The sun was just starting to come up, and a glance at a clock on the wall showed that it was just after five A.M. "I just need to rest a little more..." she trailed off, already half-asleep now that she was recovering from her sickness. When his own stomach rebelled for entirely different reasons, Lucius decided to go ahead and get up. With any luck, one of the house elves had already completed breakfast.

"I'm going to go down and get a bite," he told her. "Do you want anything?"

He waited a moment, but it became apparent that Narcissa wasn't going to reply when she rolled away from him, her breathing measured and her posture relaxed. He sighed and shook his head; only his wife could turn away and ignore him without a curse hitting her in the back. Malfoy donned a thick, black house robe, tying it around his waist and, forever mindful of his pregnant wife, he carefully opened and then closed the door on his way out of the room.

He tried to ignore the increasingly sensible voice in the back of his mind that urged him to wake Narcissa and flee; Lucius ended the dispute by reminding himself that he would most assuredly lose everything he'd ever acquired, as well as his family manor house and hundreds of thousands of galleons he'd hidden away in the lower levels of the home over the years. If the Dark Lady had come to the same conclusion he had, his life would be effectively over as soon as his daughter was born.

Could he turn his wand against Elizabeth after a decade of dedicated service? Could he stab his Mistress in the back in order to save his only child? Their highly-reputable Healer Smith, informed Lucius in a private consultation that he would most likely _not _be having a son. If the man was right, would it be worth it for Lucius to sacrifice himself in order to prolong his wife and daughter's lives? After all, if he was gone, who would protect her? Would he be able to stand by and watch his newborn die if the Dark Lady deemed it a necessary evil?

He didn't have an answer to any of his questions, but he was certain he didn't want the Dark Lady to cotton on to his treacherous thoughts, and it was imperative she never know. There was no way to tell if she would be pleased that a girl with a power she desired was born from her followers or if she would have the child and its parents murdered to protect herself. Doubtlessly, she would use the child to her on advantage and, in any case, there was a gamble involved; she would lose access to a Pureblood with a potentially important ability, or she would risk that child one day becoming a liability and turning on her. After all, the prophecy explicitly said that the Dark Lady would mark the child as her equal, and Lucius did not think that implied a hand shake and a pat on the back.

"Knut for your thoughts, Lucy?"

Lucius inwardly groaned, though he pasted a domineering smile on his face before he turned to address Bellatrix. She was wearing a black gown, as always, but her hair seemed, if possible, more of a rat's nest than usual; he imagined that Bella, Elizabeth's right hand woman, had been consulted by the Dark Lady at some point in the night. The light dancing in her dangerous eyes seemed to confirm his suspicions.

He faked a yawn before answering her question. "Just had a long night. Between the... _revelations _of the evening, and Narcissa prodding me in the side each time I fell asleep, I'm surprised I'm even out of bed this early." He paused, watching Bellatrix's reaction; Lucius found himself disappointed when her eyes narrowed.

"_Revelations_, you say. Worried Narcissa is carrying the child of prophecy, more like..." she trailed off, though her wolf-like expression only intensified. "Thinking of running away in the night with your _darling_ wife?"

Bellatrix had learned everything from Lady Elizabeth, who was an expert at manipulating men, and she was far too close to his barely-covered privates for his own comfort. The brunette blew lightly in his ear, but his instinctive shiver produced a sneer rather than an expression of pleasure. The last vestiges of sleep left Lucius' eyes at her actions, and his nostrils flared noticeably. He struggled not to pull his wand on her; the dispute with himself was made easier by the thought that Bellatrix was easily as accomplished as he, and her wand was already in her left hand.

"It... is a _possibility_ that has not escaped my notice, Bella. It's far more likely that we will have a son. Our birthing date is for the middle of August," he lied, "and when _Draco _is born, and _you_ are made his Godmother, The Dark Lady can rest easy knowing that I remain faithful to her cause."

"Yes," Bellatrix conceded, drawing closer to him. "but if that child were to be born a female at the end of July instead of August... what will you do then? Shall you _pop _away like one of your elves?" She punctuated her statement by groping him beneath his house robes, implying that she'd prefer a different type of 'pop' from Lucius.

Malfoy was visibly angry, drawing a rare smile from Bellatrix, but he answered her nonetheless. "I will remain at Her side, as _always_." There was no doubt that he was referring to Lady Elizabeth, and not his wife, who was asleep in bed not too far away. "And you, Bella? What happens if you were to be Godmother to a female?"

Bella's smile never fell. "I guess we'll just have to see," she drawled. Then, flippantly, she added, "I suggest you kill the child yourself if it comes to that..."

The witch walked away, and despite himself, he watched her shapely rear as it swayed down the hall. She slipped into the bedroom she shared with Rodolphus, sparing Lucius a lascivious wink before she disappeared around the corner. Frustrated with himself and the world spiralling out of control in front of him, Lucius proceeded down the stairs, but by the time he reached the kitchen, he found himself too sick to eat.

* * *

><p>Narcissa Malfoy had always wanted a child.<p>

Darkness had consumed her world for as long as she could remember, and growing up in a household more concerned with family pride than treating others with respect had made her quite a cold and determined teenager. Lucius' sudden arrival in her life had only reinforced those traits with steel, as she had nearly limitless wealth and power at her disposal.

For years, she had dreamed of the moment that she'd hold a little boy or girl in her hands. She knew that Lucius preferred a boy, and she hoped, for his sake, that young Draco would have every trait his father embodied: brave, bold, brazen... and probably boastful to boot. She had dealt with the loss of her first son by holding the tears at bay, but the second still born child had pushed her into a year long depression that very nearly lead to her own death.

Half a decade later, she had given up on having children, but Lucius had given her a reason to believe again. The Healer had promised the child was fine, and she took him at his word, knowing that he was the best prenatal specialist Lucius' galleons could buy. Now, just minutes before the child would reveal himself for the first time, she could feel her nervousness kicking in along with the tremors of torment resonating in her abdomen.

She was lying with her back on the bed, her eyes focused on Lucius, who was beside her, whispering in her ear. She was sweating, beads of perspiration travelling down her red cheeks as she fought through the first overwhelming current of pain, clenching her teeth together to prevent an unholy scream flying from her mouth. Bellatrix was somewhere to her right, her face unreadable. Half of Lucius' attention was on the working midwife, a Muggle nurse that Bellatrix had kidnapped straight out of a hospital room in Buxton. The Dark Lady required discretion, as she certainly couldn't owl St. Mungo's to send a suitable Healer to Malfoy manor. The dark-skinned Muggle was blissfully unaware of the bleeding witch in front of her, though she hastened to complete the midwife duties nonetheless, a product of the _Imperius _curse she was placed under.

"Almost there," Lucius muttered, conversation with his wife stilted by the overbearing presence of the Dark Lady behind him, not to mention Bellatrix to his far left. He tried not to scowl at the force Narcissa was applying to his hand; he began to regret offering her his palm in a show of compassion minutes earlier. "You're so close..."

Narcissa wailed in misery, begging him to reapply the same numbing charm he had already used seven times. He apologized profusely, promising her that he was doing all that he could to keep her comfortable. She had fallen short of cursing him for getting her pregnant but, if her eyes could kill...

Lucius glanced at the Dark Lady and found that her attention was not on Narcissa, but on Bellatrix, who was smirking slightly, though he could not for the life of him figure out _why_. That never boded well for anyone, but Lucius did not have time to spare their affixation on each other any mind, as a head covered in shockingly blonde hair finally came into view. "Come on, honey!" he said, beaming despite his fears. "Keep pushing!"

Narcissa screamed, her voice breaking with the strain of pushing the baby out, but gradually Lucius could see the baby's forehead, and then, with another almighty effort by his wife, the entire head. The midwife served her purpose well, gathering the child in her arms before quickly snipping the umbilical cord. All the while, Narcissa's chest heaved with each breath, tears running down her unfocused eyes. Lucius' eyes, however, were drawn to the distinct shape of his child's head, which the midwife was currently cleaning off with a towel.

The tiny little girl, just seconds old, was already stretching her fragile vocal cords, screaming her dismay at being torn from the warm womb of Narcissa. Her wet blonde hair stuck slightly to her flawless forehead and Lucius froze, unable to believe the sight in front of him despite it all being glaringly obvious. The Healer had told him to expect a female, and under different circumstances, he would have been tickled pink that Narcissa and the child were relatively uninjured.

As it was, he felt like fainting from shock. For a brief moment, Lucius closed his eyes and prayed to a God he had never known, for a miracle he knew he had never deserved. His back was to the Dark Lady, who couldn't see the child from this angle, but Bellatrix's eyes lingered on the baby's face, and the deepening smile on her face did not strike him as a pleasant one.

"Let me see him, Lucius," Narcissa begged, a teary smile on her face. Her voice was almost frantic when he didn't immediately move, frowning heavily. "Is everything alright?"

Lucius stifled a sob, realizing that this child had just condemned them all to death. Proud father he would remain, but for how long? He couldn't possibly hide the baby girl from Elizabeth for more than a few moments.

As he handed his beautiful daughter to his wife for the first and possibly last time, Malfoy realized how unlikely their survival was. Narcissa immediately began weeping, tears of joy streaming down her face, unaware of the repercussions of their child's birth.

His eyes fell to his wand, an ancient relic that had once belonged to his ancestor Armand before the Norman invasion brought the Malfoys to Britain. The same man had established the foundations of Malfoy manor, building a bastion of wealth and nobility that Lucius had always called home. Both would be lost in the wake of his fall, a thought that caused him no small amount of sorrow. Tears ran down his cheeks, but he knew that he did not cry just for his own loss.

Lucius grieved for his family.

It did not take him long to make up his mind; Lucius' stricken expression fell away, leaving only cold, resolute malice in his visage. The Malfoy name might die with him, but it was impossible for Lucius to give up his daughter, a child he and his wife had wished for, to the Dark Lady, who would surely kill her as soon as she laid eyes on the baby's face.

When he turned to look at Bellatrix, her attention was on something Elizabeth was doing behind him, and Malfoy didn't wait to give either of them the first strike; before Bella could train her wand on him, Malfoy turned around, swinging his own wand in a circular motion and banishing his targets away from his wife and child.

"_Arcus Depulso!" _

A tornado of magic ripped from Malfoy's wand, fueled with his desperation, and his dark intentions made the curse all the more powerful. Elizabeth was quick enough to cast a shield even before Malfoy turned, and he had to defend against a return spell immediately after; Bellatrix, on the other hand, cried as she was thrown aside by the force of his spell, slamming against the stone wall behind her. and falling to the ground in a heap.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" Lucius cast, but the Muggle midwife took the curse to the chest, having been summoned by the Dark Lady's _Accio_. "Curtains _Inimicum!_" Lucius shouted, pointing his wand at the curtains surrounding her bed; they formed a barricade around her, removing her from view and protecting her against any stray spells, though he could still hear Narcissa sobbing from behind the curtain. He had no time to worry about his wife, however, as the Dark Lady was speaking.

"How long did you know, Lucius?" Elizabeth asked. She was supremely calm, looking as though his over-powered spell had done nothing more than cleaned her robes for her.

"As soon as I heard the prophecy, My Lady." He bit his cheeks as soon as the words left his mouth; he would never call Elizabeth his Mistress again. His tone was still distinctly reverential, and Elizabeth expected nothing less from the greatest man to have served amongst her Knights. "I... I'm sorry it had to come to this," he said, suddenly filled with regret.

_All those years of service, for nothing but a dagger in my heart..._

"Spare me your apology, Lucius," Elizabeth chided, twirling her wand slowly, almost lazily. His expression went blank, He wondered if she was mocking him, toying with him, or if she didn't really want him dead. "We both know you don't intend to die on your _knees_," she hissed, "so stand and fight me, My Knight. Fight me, or watch yourchild die." She glanced pointedly at the bed where Narcissa was surely smothering her new born with all the love it deserved. He wished he could share in that moment, and his heart broke at the thought that he'd probably never get to hold his only daughter.

Elizabeth watched him like a snake would a mouse, circling to the left to put more space between herself and her prey. Lucius stood where he was, contemplating the first move she would make. He suspected she wouldn't want to hurt the child immediately; it was far more likely that the Dark Lady would take his Pureblooded daughter as her own, and that thought scared him nearly as much as his impending death. He knew Narcissa would be dispatched easily enough in her bed-ridden condition. The silence was filled with her wailing, and the dull ring of a grandfather clock signified it was now past midnight.

Lucius' time was up.

His instantaneous silver shield deflected the first spell she cast - an immolating curse, if he saw it correctly -but there was nothing he could do about the second, a shield breaker that he was sure Elizabeth had come up with herself. It ate away his The curse wrecked his concentration, as his hand was burned by the wand's vibration, and he took a red jet of light to his left thigh. His cry of pain was cut short when he hit the deck, rolling away from a chain of gouging spells that left foot long holes carved in the stone floor.

He banished a chair at the Dark Lady's feet as she cast her last spell, and she was forced to jump over it to keep herself from being tripped up. Rather than catch her off-balance, as he expected, her well-aimed cutting curse struck his shoulder as he moved, severing tendons and sending blood pouring down his left bicep. Fortunately, Lucius was right handed, and his familiarity with his surroundings meant that he knew where every light in the house was; he replicated her immolating curse, but aimed it at the gas lamp, which exploded with a blast that caught the Dark Lady by surprise.

This time, Elizabeth was the one on the ground, but she clenched her teeth and silently cast _Deprimo, _a strong wind that buffeted Lucius' face and pushed him against the wall, forcing his _Avada Kedavra _off target. Lucius took a step forward, waving his wand, but Elizabeth was quicker; a blast of flame singed his cheeks, and recoiled instinctively. His face was quite literally on fire, and he screamed; his skin was eaten away as if by acid, and Elizabeth smiled at his agony, pausing only briefly to admire his marred jawline.

"Resistance is futile, Lucius," she laughed, only the slightest hitch in her voice. "Stop now, and I won't make you watch me torture your family to death."

"Might as well go out with a bang," he muttered, spitting blood on the ground near his feet. "I'm dead anyway."

"You're not yet," Elizabeth chided, her nostrils flaring, "but you will be soon!"

She swung her wand downward, and a thin, almost unnoticeable beam of red light shot through the place he had just been standing; the severing curse missed his jugular by mere centimeters, as Lucius recoiled just in time. Two killing curses flew from his wand in sequence, but neither found their target; the green jets of light smashed into a table summoned by the Dark Lady, and with bewildering speed, she banished the splintered wood at Lucius.

He felt the jagged limestone impale his face and arms, but he paid the pain no mind; any damage he sustained was irrelevant, as he planned to give his life for his family anyway. He ran at the Dark Lady, short bursts of orange light spiralling toward Elizabeth. However, all of his fire spells flew to either side of Elizabeth, who was holding her wand in front of her like a sword and seemed to be powering a deflecting shield Lucius wasn't acquainted with. Growing frustrated with his inability to harm the Dark Lady, he roared, "_Obliterro!"_

Elizabeth dropped her shield and leapt to the side, not trusting herself against one Lucius' favorite spells. The obliteration charm slammed into the wall behind her and the limestone eroded away in a matter of moments, leaving a clear view of the hallway on its otherside. Lucius grimaced; he had no doubts that the Dark Lady would have been dead if the spell connected. He felt an additional severing curse carve its way through his thigh, but he immediately numbed the damage before aiming at Elizabeth, who had not recovered quickly enough; in an instant, Lucius summoned the limestone remains and banished them across the room, capitalizing on the Dark Lady's mistake.

"Stay where you are!" he roared, his adrenaline and the euphoria from his success filling his voice. Elizabeth was on the ground, bleeding heavily from her leg; apparently, his powerfully cast obliteration charm had blasted apart a portion of the wall, and Lucius very nearly couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the stone shard now protruding from the Dark Lady's left calf. Various other scrapes littered her arms and torso; her collarbone, in particular, was gouged rather badly on the left side. "Don't you _dare _move," he hissed.

"Very good, Lucius," Elizabeth said, her voice falsely calm, despite bleeding heavily from her leg. She coughed, wheezing from the cloud of dust in the air. "You haven't stopped practicing-"

"_Expelliarmus!_" he shouted. A bone white wand flew from Elizabeth's hands, flying into Lucius' waiting palm. "I learned from the best-"

"But there's one thing you forgot, Lucius," the Dark Lady said, trying to stand. She looked as weak as he had ever seen her, causing him some pause as he admired her defeated stance. Malfoy allowed her to get to her feet while he gave himself a moment's respite; he was breathing heavily after their battle, and his arm was stinging terribly. Still, he wasn't too worse for wear, and somehow, by the grace of Merlin, he was holding onto Elizabeth's wand.

"What's that?" he said, wiping blood from his forearm, where it had trickled down from his shoulder. A glance around him showed that the room was destroyed; most of the back wall now littered the floor, and tapestries, tables and much of the floor were burned black from his deflected fire spells. Elizabeth's pleasant expression intensified, but Lucius could see her typically white teeth were blood-stained; he decided she must have bit her tongue when she was slammed to the ground. Lucius, whose mouth was even bloodier than Elizabeth's, returned the Dark Lady's simpering smile, though he was perturbed by her seemingly submissive behavior.

She licked her lips, blood trailing onto her tongue. "You see, _Lucius_," she drawled, drawing a shiver of revulsion from Malfoy. She continued standing perfectly still despite Lucius training his wand on her torso, ready to cast a curse at any sign of movement. He knew he must have hurt the Dark Lady, but her facial expression was distinctly elated, as if the rush of adrenaline from dueling with Lucius was the power she desired, and not the as yet unknown abilities his daughter would develop. Her eyes found his for a moment, and he recoiled as a Legilimency attack hit his mind; his Occlumency slammed into place a moment later, shutting her completely from his thoughts, but Lucius was too late. "No matter what, I always win," she whispered, despite him ferociously pushing her out of his head. The words swirled in his ears even after she was gone, but the euphoria of rejecting her intrusion hit him, and he had to shake himself free of the feeling.

Lucius saw a blur in his peripheral vision and briefly hesitated; unfortunately for him, the moment of confusion caused by the Dark Lady's mental attack gave Bellatrix enough time to rise to her feet. "_Avada-"_

Green light cascaded around the dark lit room as the killing curse formed at the tip of Lucius' wand, and as a piercing cry of victory left his tongue, a shout of defiance left another scant moments before the life of Elizabeth Riddle would be extinguished.

"No!"

* * *

><p><em>-End of Prologue, Part Two-<em>


	3. Prologue: Part Three

**PART THREE**

* * *

><p>Albus Dumbledore was no fool.<p>

His one hundreth birthday was less than a year away, but his mind was as keen as it had been in his forties, and anyone who thought otherwise was deluded. Albus thought logically and his morality was sound. He had money and power, but he did not let those things define him. He knew that he had lost a step or two in the last sixty years, but when he had the need to be, Albus was as swift as he was intelligent, as sharp as he was powerful. The years had not drained him of his vitality, nor his proficiency with magic, and he remained as spirited about teaching the wizarding world's children and protecting them from harm as he had been back when he was just a Transfiguration professor still learning his trade.

His closest friends would often joke that he was wise _beyond_ his years - an unfathomable idea, until Albus realized that Griselda Marchbanks was much, much older than him, reconciling her age with her dedication toward treating him as though he were incompetent. He was still prone to a bad decision here and there (even now, Albus second-guessed his appointment of Sybill Trelawney to the Divination post) but he thought, overall, he was smart and hard-working enough to be getting on with his job.

For a man who had chosen a life of scholarship over military service, he was unusually experienced in battle - in his own opinion, _too_ experienced - despite his most fervent wish: to stay far, far away from another war. The successes and failures of his youth notwithstanding, he had never battled for the right to rule England; quite the contrary, Albus fought for the opportunity to guide his country toward a better tomorrow.

The _Greater Good_, he had called it. Now, even the thought left a bad taste in his mouth. Who was Albus to determine what was right for the future of the wizarding world? The people of England could only achieve their goals with diplomacy and Democracy, not through military force or martial law, breeding fear and paranoia. The mass hysteria that followed Grindelwald's rise in Europe was enough evidence to convince Albus of that.

At the time a newly-elected member of the International Confederation of Wizards, Dumbledore had spoken in front of representatives of all developed nations, cajoling them into service to defeat Grindelwald before he laid claim to England. Eastern Europe had been hit hardest by his forces, but it was still tough to convince larger, stronger countries that they _needed _to stand against a young upstart like Gellert; France was willing to side with England, but no other ICW members voted in Albus' favor, citing the fact that Grindelwald had only inflicted damages on countries that were not part of their confederation. Seething, young Albus had wandlessly blasted the front doors off the ICW headquarters in anger.

His antics had been born from frustration, but he had garnered fame (and a well-deserved Howler from the Chief Warlock) in the wake of his rallying call; unfortunately, it had come too late for him to make a difference for Poland, Austria and Luxembourg. For three years, Grindelwald terrorized Central and Eastern Europe, creating a reputation that exceeded all but a select few dark wizards throughout history, and it had still taken dozens of dark-robed militants murdering the previous Minister of Magic before new incumbent Eldritch Diggory agreed to Albus' demands to take action.

Back then, Dumbledore had blamed himself solely for the loss of life, and as London was attacked almost daily, he became more and more reclusive, barely eating and rarely sleeping, such was his dedication to becoming stronger than his enemy. Only defeating Grindelwald and locking him up in Nurmengard had eased his Albus, but even then, he was haunted by the fact that he had been unable to stop hundreds of wizards from dying.

The mistake he made by shaking hands with a stranger had repercussions neither could have possibly known. For what friend was more loyal to Albus than his German contemporary? What wizard was more persuasive and well-liked than young Gellert Grindelwald? Only Albus could draw in followers as dedicated as the droves of dark wizards that eventually saw Gellert as their chance to change the world. Some of that generation's best witches and wizards died for their efforts reshaping Europe to fit Gellert's demented design, and nearly as many died fighting against them on the battlefield. A millenia of knowledge, and million of galleons of valuables were tainted, destroyed or lost in the wake of his fall.

Entire wizarding villages had been erased. Making matters worse, Pureblood families were displaced by the on-going Muggle World War, as the Blitzkreig rampaged across the European countryside, spreading fear of what Muggles might be capable of. The atomic bomb was invented and Nagasaki and Hiroshima, strongholds of wizarding Japan for centuries, were washed away in an instant. Vampires started feeding in predominantly Muggle cities - Belfast, Paris, Brussels and New Orleans amongst a slew of others. On full moons, werewolves prowled the London Underground, searching for fresh meat. Wherever Hilter and Mussolini's armies hit, Grindelwald's dark creatures were sure to follow, consuming every corpse they came across and finishing off dying and injured Muggles. Muggleborns went into hiding for their own safety, and Hogwarts had fewer students than ever before.

Before the war, Albus' heart had nearly been swayed to darkness by his young sister's terrible fate and he had resented Muggles for a long time for destroying his family. There was no doubt in his mind that Ariana could have become a Hogwarts professor, and he knew she would have been far more brilliant, caring and nurturing to her students than he had ever been to her. Looking back now, decades removed from Gellert's dark influence, after surviving two wars he inadvertently spawned, it was no wonder he didn't believe in good or evil, and especially not g_reatness_.

For better or worse, however, the public saw Albus as a great man. Many thought of him as the last line of defense against She Who Must Not Be Named, a title that, despite its inherent nastiness, often put a humorless smile on his face. If no one else, Albus bloody well knew her name.

Elizabeth Riddle would have her Knights believe she wasn't afraid of anyone or anything, but he remembered the fear in her eyes the first time she realized she wasn't the only person capable of magic. He remember a frightened little girl, brutally sure of herself but no one else. Albus could see her round, childish face, stricken with fear at the thought that someone was vastly more powerful than her. At Hogwarts, she flourished, becoming less shy, more persuasive, and hauntingly beautiful, but one thing about her had never changed.

She was afraid of _him_, not the other way around, and Albus strived to keep it that way.

A cold, miserable mist dwarved a row of abandoned houses, a product of the decrepit mill turning across the neighboring river. Beads of water swirled around Albus' wide shoulders, the Impervius charm on his cloak easily handling the precipitation, but he chose to drape himself in another cloak, one he had borrowed from James Potter. As soon as the material touched his shoulders, he disappeared, invisible to the naked eye.

He glanced to the left, seeing through the cloak hiding him from view, and fixed his attention on a particular house, one that was seemingly identical to the other brick homes lining the street. A sign, illuminated by one of the few working street lights, signified that Albus Dumbledore had successfully arrived at Spinner's End.

The lamp post went out suddenly, engulfing his shadow in darkness. He swept forward with purpose, not bothering to knock as he silently opened a back door and entered the home of Severus Snape. He had been itching to insitigate this meeting, and it had taken nearly two months to track Severus to this home, and another week before Dumbledore was certain his ex-student was present. The proximity charm, placed covertly on a pewter cauldron, had been breached, and the corresponding trinket in his office had not ceased its squealing for a quarter of an hour.

The Headmaster of Hogwarts deemed that an open invitation for a quiet chat.

Albus stepped into a tiny sitting room. There was an oppressive, cantankerous mood about the place, but then, he supposed that suited Severus' personality quite well. It was obvious that Snape did not care much for luxury, as the only items worthy of Albus' notice were bookshelves lining the walls and one small, burgundy armchair, on which a half-empty bottle of firewhiskey was discarded. As he crept across the room and into the next, he heard the sound of a bubbling brew, a concoction Severus was currently laboring over. The smell was pungent, and Albus' nostrils dimly recognized the odor as fumes from the Draught of Living Death. Peering across Severus' right shoulder, his supicions were confirmed; when Snape finished one final clockwise stir, the pale lilac color of the potion became shockingly clear. Even to a knowledgeable potioneer like Albus, the brew looked exactly like clean water, and anyone who drank Severus' brew would fall into an instant, prolonged sleep.

Dumbledore allowed Snape to finish, giving him time to pour his potion into a bottle and place a cork in it before Albus waved his wand. Thick, heavy ropes wound themselves around Severus' arms, legs and torso, but the man was quick enough to cast the counter curse; unfortunately for him, Dumbledore's carefully aimed stunner dispatched his one time student before Snape could do more than bellow his frustration. He hit the ground heavily, smacking his head against the hard wood, and Dumbledore winced despite himself; it had not been his intention to harm Snape, despite the ill deeds he knew the man had committed.

Albus had questions. Severus was going to answer them whether he wanted to or not.

No sane man would take a Death Eater at his word, however, so Albus contented himself by scanning the shelves lining the otherwise barren walls, searching for Veritaserum. He strongly suspected Severus would have some of the controlled substance in his stores, if only to suit the Dark Lady's purposes at a later date. It took a credible Potions master four weeks to brew the potion, and if none was readily available to Albus, interrogating Severus would be a lot more difficult. Legilimency would give him the information he needed, but it was never easy to penetrate a trained Occlumens mind, and it demanded one's upmost concentration and and it would be substantially harder without Snape ingesting Veritaserum first.

Checking the shelves, Albus saw containers of all shapes and sizes, some housing ingredients and others carrying a multitude of potions, ranging from clandestine to tremendously difficult; Wolfsbane, a concoction that Dumbledore, even with his decades of experience, had never had the patience to accurately complete, was easy to locate thanks to the curiously continuous smoke swirling inside the glass.

Albus had never been a thief, even when he and his two siblings were poverty stricken after his parents death, but Severus was in no position to complain as his one time schoolteacher stole the Wolsbane. Beside it, small, round rocks covered in a green, algea-like substance were sitting in an open pine wood box, looking like they had been used recently. He grabbed one from the box and closed it before moving further down the row.

He used _Specialis Revelio_ to correctly identify most of the ingredients in each potion. It was a laborious task that required his upmost concentration, and he had almost given up when he paused at the end of a divide between two rows of shelves. He unconsciously treaded his fingers the length of his beard. At long last, he smiled and snatched a particularly small bottle containing a clear, colorless liquid labelled "_Truth_" off of the shelf.

He had found everything he needed, so he made his way back to Severus. As expected, the man was still lying face down where Albus had left him. Snape's legs were loosely bound by the length of rope Dumbledore had conjured and, a twist of his wand later, it formed a lasso before stretching, wrapping its way around Snape's torso and arms and tying him to the thick bookcase behind him. Albus cast a silencing charm around them, added an Imperturbable charm on the door, and then, he sat down gingerly in the armchair on the other side of Snape, admiring his own work.

Satisfied that his magic would keep them hidden from any observers, Albus unscrewed the cap from the bottle beside him, and he carefully let the potion in his hand fall into the fire whiskey. Once he had the requisite amount of drops, he levitated the firewhiskey over to Severus' side, and then pasted a friendly smile on his face. He crossed his legs to make himself more comfortable; Snape's armchair did not complement Albus' eccentricity, and it was nowhere near as accomdating as the one behind his desk at Hogwarts, but it would do for the moment.

"_Rennervate_!"

When Snape inevitably opened his eyes, he gazed around the room for a moment, plainly confused by his position on the floor of his home. Albus could see the sudden clarity in Snape's features, and the much younger man bellowed his rage as he realized he could not move his limbs. He wriggled back and forth for a long time before he gave up on trying to free himself, frowning heavily and leaning back against the book case behind himself. It was obvious he was uncomfortable sitting on the hard floor with his arms fastened to his sides, but then, that had been Dumbledore's intention from the start.

Relaxing further in Severus' armchair, Albus refused to speak until Snape faced him, scowling. Cordially, the Headmaster nodded and smiled in turn, greeting his ex-student with far more grace than the man's behavior deserved. "Good evening, Severus. I hope I didn't catch you at an _inopportune_ time."

The vitriol that spewed from Snape's mouth, fuelled by his frustration at being thoroughly outmaneuvered by another, much more talented wizard, was as verbose and brutal as any rebuke he'd ever been on the receiving end of. He smiled lightly for the duration of the other man's tirade; they both knew that nothing Snape could say could possibly erode Dumbledore's pleasant expression. When Snape finally stopped cursing Albus, his voice was gravelly, sounding like a man resigned to his dreadful fate.

"I've been expecting you," he said, his black eyes sharp as daggers. Dumbledore's smile grew at the thought that Snape had been prepared for his visit. "In fact," Severus continued, "I thought you'd be here long before now." He sneered, a bit of austerity sliding back into his typically cruel voice. "Are you going to take me into custody, or will you interrogate me in my own sitting room?"

His level tone did not fool Dumbledore; hehad a sneaking suspicion that Severus had wanted him to come, judging by the calm display in front of him, not to mention how simple it had been to dispatch Snape in the first place.

"I thought you'd prefer the latter. I wouldn't want to compromise your worth to your _cause_." His emphasis on the word left no doubt as to how he felt about Severus' role in the Dark Lady's army.

"Why is that?" Snape asked, really quite curious despite his demeanor saying otherwise. "Do you expect me to..." he started, before cutting himself off, beginning to laugh. "You actually want me to spy for you, don't you? On _Her_?" When Dumbledore didn't move, merely offering him the same friendly smile, Severus' affable manner went out the window. "That's rich! What makes you think you can control me?" he spat. "I'd be dead the first time she forced her way into my mind."

"You'll be dead either way," Dumbledore reasoned, his expression never wavering. "Would you rather it come at end of the Dark Lady's wand, or at the hands of Sirius Black or James Potter?"

Snape scoffed. It was evident he wasn't worried about Black and Potter, his hated rivals from Hogwarts. Albus knew Severus resented James for stealing away the one woman he loved (they had fought often enough during their seventh year) but Snape knew he would have enemies that were far more likely to kill him for leaving the Dark Lady's side, including his Mistress herself. He had too much pride to give in just because the Aurors knew he was a Death Eater. "I am one of her _Knights_," he drawled, seemingly proud of what his title meant. "There is nothing else for me now but to serve."

"Severus, it is _never_ too late. You can always make another choice."

"I will not die for some Mudblood agenda-"

"-yet you'd die for _Her_ agenda? To kill everyone... all the children who grew up like Lily, unaware of their hidden power? You would condemn her son, Harry-"

"Don't you _dare_ mention that name to me!" Severus shrieked, losing control of his emotions again. If Dumbledore had not known he was pushing Snape's buttons before, his reaction to the word 'Harry' was as telling as any confession. Severus would always be smitten by Lily Evans, whether he tried to hide it or not. "I refuse to be blackmailed into spying for you-"

"_Blackmailed_?" Dumbledore laughed, wiping an imaginary tear from his kind eyes. "Of course you would consider this _blackmail_. The wool has been pulled over your eyes, son. It's about time someone told you the truth."

Snape's remark was sarcastic, per usual. "I'd appreciate you not calling me _son_," he hissed, "I had a father once - not a good one mind, and a useless _Muggle _to boot_, _but hewas myfather all the same..." After a pause, Snape's sarcasm evaporated, and as Dumbledore continued to smile passively, Snape's eyes filled with wonder. "What do you mean _truth?_"

"Surely you've noticed the similarities between yourself and your... _Mistress_?" Snape's blank expression had Dumbledore shaking his head as if disappointed in his one time pupil. "Her particular disdain for Muggle men? Older men... like your father?"

Snape bit his lip unconsciously; he had not been made privy to some of the Dark Lady's secrets, but he had seen her torture a middle-aged man firsthand. The Dark Lady had used it as an opportunity for others to join in, forcing the younger Death Eaters like Warrington to use Crucio on the man. She rarely went to the trouble of personally inflicting pain on Muggles, however, as she was too busy attending to the murder of Muggleborn witches and wizards to bother with those deemed beneath her. She delegated those tasks to others in their ranks; when it was necessary for a Death Eater to kill a child or a female, they were either toyed with, or given the quick, painless death of an Avada Kedavra.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Snape demanded. "_So what_ if she has a thing against old men-"

"Her father abandoned her as a child, Severus-"

"Even so, through her mother's lineage, _she _is a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin!"

"Yes, but what about her _father's _lineage? I suppose she's never mentioned her father leaving or her mother giving birth on her death bed..." Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "Elizabeth Jarene Riddle _is _the last direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin, but her life story is quite different from how she tells it. She would say that her mother and father left her orphaned - also true - but who... exactly, were her parents? After all, Riddle's last name is not _Slytherin_, now is it? Born to Merope Gaunt, a tormented, abused witch who was nearly a squib, and Tom Riddle, an affluent Muggle..."

Snape looked unconvinced, but he was listening with rapt attention, so Albus continued his story.

"Merope was so fascinated by Tom that she bewitched him with Amortentia. The child that came from that loveless relation was half Muggle, half Pureblood - which would constitute the birth of a _half_ blood, according to Elizabeth." He smiled darkly. "Not as _pure_ as she would have the world presume."

Snape recoiled as if struck, completely flabbergasted at the news that his Mistress was a half blood. He had no doubt that Dumbledore was telling the truth; after all, the ancient wizard was highly-regarded for a reason. He had no reason to lie, especially if he wanted Snape's help.

"She's just like you," Dumbledore added, while Severus was lost in his thoughts. Dumbledore, perhaps sensing that Severus needed a moment, grabbed a book from the shelf next to him. "These are some rather dark texts, Severus," he chided. "Why, I recall young Elizabeth having a book just like-"

"You're lying," Snape interrupted, before he could bite his tongue. Dumbledore's reproving silence told him otherwise. Severus had often speculated on the circumstances that drove Elizabeth to the brink of madness, but he certainly never suspected it had something to do with her Muggle father. "Why would she...?"

"That's a question you'd have to ask her, though I doubt you'd get an acceptable answer," he said with a smile. "I am of the opinion that she wants magic all for herself." Dumbledore waved the other man's immediate sharp remark away with a smile. "I will explain."

"Elizabeth Riddle was an astoundingly powerful child when I first met her. She had grown up in an orphanage, strongly believing that she was the only person capable of magic. She was bereft of an acceptable mother or father figure, and with accidental magic happening all around her, it is easy to imagine that she had trouble fitting in with fearful children, who likely saw her as something of a bully.

Fear can turn a person into a monster. Something happened at that orphanage that can never be undone. Elizabeth was already going dark by the time I asked her to attend Hogwarts; I didn't know it at the time, but she had a history of torturing the other orphans, and nearly everyone, including the adults working there, considered her a terrible, frightening child. They were too happy to be free of her to question our _arrangement_.

Before the age of eight years old, Elizabeth had learned to wandlessly harness her talents to such an extent that she could hurt others, and she had no compunctions about doing so. She threatened, harrassed and mistreated orphaned children like herself, and she found pleasure in it, so much so that, after a time, she even started doing it to the _adults_."

Snape's remark was thoughtful, and also disbelieving. "How could a child be capable of controlling other children? The most I could manage at that age, even knowing the incantation _Aguamenti_, was a steady drip-"

"Severus, I was not much different. By the age of eleven, I had not quite mastered the art of levitating my quill; it tended to blow up whenever I tried to write with it. I have known others, however, who were more like Elizabeth. Bellatrix Black, for example, wandlessly put her brother Regulus in a Full-Body Bind and levitated a knife over his throat with deadly accuracy. I believe he had a thin, white scar after that..."

"Get to the point, Headmaster," Snape demanded, glancing at the clock on the far wall. "The Dark Lady has requested that I bring her the Draught of Living Death on the stroke of midnight, and I'm quite certain she will call me soon." He eyed Dumbledore with the slightest trepidation, as if just now questioning the mans' motives. "Are you going to hold me hostage? I doubt she'd appreciate your interference-"

"No, no, you'll be free of me soon enough," Dumbledore said, shaking his head. Then, he smiled grimly. "I will return once you gather additional reports on Elizabeth's activities, of course."

"Of course," Snape drawled, his neck glowing faintly red. He was obviously not pleased about the position Albus had forced him into. Dumbledore returned to his story, seemingly oblivious to Snape's rising anger.

"As soon as Elizabeth learned her own origins, she sought to destroy all records of her life before and during her stay at the orphanage. The same workers that had been haunted by her did not remember Elizabeth when I inquired as to her whereabouts - and I very much doubt a Muggle would have _forgotten_ that particular child."

Snape understood. It was very likely that Elizabeth _Obliviated _the children and the people who worked at the orphanage. It would have been a massive undertaking for her to track them all down but, other than Dumbledore and perhaps some of his Order members, no one knew she was a half-blood. He knew that when she was determined, nothing could stand in her way.

"As fascinating as this all is, Headmaster, _why_ are you even here? Despite the Dark Lady's ancestry, it is too late for me to remove the Dark Mark. She will know that you came to visit me as soon as she comes close to me."

"Can you not resist her feminine charm? I rather think you can do anything you put your mind to."

"Thanks for the inspirational speech, Headmaster, but you didn't answer my question."

_Now_, they had come to crux of the matter. Dumbledore sat a little straighter in his seats, perhaps sensing that this conversation would soon reach its conclusion. Snape slipped a little bit further down the bookcase behind him, suddenly finding his breathing labored, and sweat trailing down both sides of his face. He stared, perplexed at his apparent sickness, as Albus started to speak once more.

"I want you to join the Order of the Phoenix, Severus. I want you to become a... double agent, a spy for our cause." He crossed the room, rising to his feet so suddenly Snape thought he might have been standing the entire time. Oddly, Snape's thoughts were beginning to muddle, and he glanced around to see that the walls of his house were rippling.

"Headmas... what is... happening-"

"Veritaserum and Firewhiskey make an interesting combination, Severus, particularly when one adds _four _drops into the liquor." Despite his spell of dizziness, Snape's eyes grew wide in recognition, and he started wretching, trying to purge the potion from his stomach. "Don't worry," Dumbledore said, his voice friendly even though he had just poisoned the wizard across from him. "As long as you answer my questions _truthfully_, you should have plenty of time to find an antidote."

Severus knew that he was limited to only a few minutes of conversation before he'd lose his faculties completely. He would have never suspected Dumbledore capable of murder, but perhaps recent events had clouded the man's typically sound judgement. Then again, Snape wasn't likely to be missed by anyone if he was found dead, and it was even less likely that someone would come to Spinner's End to find him to begin with. Dumbledore ignored the man's inner turmoil, asking his questions as quickly as possible

"Who is pregnant within the ranks of the Death Eaters?"

Looking as though he'd rather stab his own eyes out than answer Albus, Snape muttered, "Narcissa Malfoy."

Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up, but there was no other reaction on the great wizard's face. "Have you revealed the _entire_ contents of the prophecy to the Dark Lady?"

Again, Snape rebelled against the over-powering voice in his mind, but eventually lost out; his voice was distinctly sharp when he snapped, "_No!"_

Albus stopped and studied the man across from him. He was obviously telling the truth, so there was no point repeating the question, but Dumbledore was still unconvinced. "Did you forget a portion?"

Snape's eyes glittered. "No," he admitted, refusing to elaborate. Dumbledore glared at the man.

"Did you _miss_ a portion of the recitation?"

With a growl, Snape admitted that he had missed the end of the prophecy. Dumbledore was stunned at this revelation, and his mind went to work, piecing together a strategy even as he continued his reel of questions. "What were the exact words you told her..."

_"The one with the power the Dark Lady desires approaches ... born to those who have never defied her, born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lady will mark her as her equal, but she will have power the Dark Lady does not..."_

Snape's face was unreadable. Dumbledore looked away, realizing that he had been silent for too long. "She will have power the Dark Lady does not..." he muttered, combing his beard with his fingers. "Interesting..."

Albus clearly remembered the night he had heard Sybill's recitation, in part due to using a pensieve to revisit the evening. He knew he had shut Severus out of the bar, but he had been wary of others hearing the prophecy as well. Snape's eyes were on his back, so without speaking, Dumbledore's mouth formed the missing words of the prophecy as he puzzled its meaning together in his mind.

_...and neither shall die while the other lives..._

"Besides the two of us, who knows about the prophecy?"

"Elizabeth, Bellatrix, Narcissa and Lucius."

Dumbledore nodded silently. It was fortunate for them that the Dark Lady didn't realize that the safety of the Malfoy's child was paramount to her own well-being. Based on the knowledge she had, it was likely that she'd suspect the girl could become her enemy in the future. If she had an ability that the Dark Lady desired, then Elizabeth may attempt to steal the girl's power for herself. There were a select few dark rituals that she could try to siphon another wizard's innate abilities with(outlawed in the sixth century), but Albus was unsure whether they would work or merely disable the individuals involved. Furthermore, it would be nigh on impossible to determine the extent of the girl's powers at such a young age; whether she was a Metamorphmagus, a Seer, or simply a really fast runner, no one would be able to examine her ability until she was much older and it revealed itself.

Then, Albus was struck with an even more sickening thought - if the baby was to die, marked by the Dark Lady, then surely Elizabeth would also die in the process? Could this be the opportunity that the Order was waiting for? He hated himself for thinking it, but it did not make it any less true. Albus also had to wonder if it was possible for Riddle to murder the child until she had marked her, and he was far from certain the prophecy would be fulfilled in that case. In fact, the only thing he was increasingly sure of was that he was horribly out of his depth.

"Where are they right now?"

"Malfoy manor," Snape said, trying to bite his tongue to no avail. Almost instantaneously, he started shaking as a terrible pain shot through his right forearm, and he writhed against his ropes, trying to hold back a scream. "She's... requesting me..." he forced out, both of his eyes clenched shut. He was having difficulty breathing with the ropes tied tight across his torso. "She... wants me to bring... the _potion_-"

Dumbledore shot into motion. If the baby was born tonight (and it was looking increasingly certain that she would be), Elizabeth would be able to do anything she wanted to the defenseless child. Unless Narcissa or Lucius intervened, likely sacrificing themselves in the process, their only child - perhaps Britain's only hope - was likely to perish before sunrise. There wasn't a moment to waste.

Before Severus injured himself against the ropes, Albus pulled a bezoar from his pocket, wandlessly cast _Anapneo _on Snape to clear his throat, and then banished the marble-sized rock directly into Snape's mouth. Thanks to Albus' magic, Severus' hacking coughs didn't keep him from swallowing the bezoar. An additional wandless spell removed the ropes from around Severus, who immediately scrambled to his feet, breathing like he had just run a marathon. While Snape was recovering, taking in deep lungfuls of air, Dumbledore summoned the Draught of Living Death, and then banished it so that it landed gently at Severus' feet.

Albus sent his Patronus to fetch Alastor Moody, who would then be able to summon the other Order members. They would assemble outside of Hogwarts in a matter of minutes, but Albus couldn't help feeling like they would be too late.

"Severus," Dumbledore whispered. Snape's black pupils met him from behind sweaty, raven hair. "You must go to her immediately," he urged. "_Accio _Severus' wand!"

A long, flexible wand came flying from the neighboring room. The great wizard passed the weapon over to Snape and turned away; it was obvious that Albus did not expect sabotage from Snape, who was too disoriented to even think of betraying one of the strongest wizards in history. By the time Snape felt confident he could stand on his shaky legs, Dumbledore had already cast a series of charms to clear Snape's head and to clean him up a bit. Very soon, Severus Snape was looking as surly and emotionless as before Dumbledore's visit.

"Don't forget," Albus said, just as Snape prepared to Apparate to the Dark Lady's side. "_Arrovia Aproxima Ognora!"_

Severus mentally panicked as he felt Dumbledore's magic take hold, the warm trickle down his spinelasting barely a second. Snape knew that Dumbledore could now find him anywhere in the world, and the Dark Lady was probably the only witch or wizard strong enough to negate Dumbledore's tremendously complex and powerful spell. The first time Severus flew to her side, Albus would know the general location of the Dark Lady's compound, and it wouldn't be long before Snape's Mistress realized he had led Dumbledore right to her.

Snape decided that being a Knight wasn't quite as alluring when the enemy _knew _where you were headed and were waiting to strike once you arrived. Distraught, and fearing another painful call from the Dark Lady, Snape couldn't do anything but follow her directions. He could almost hear her frustration...

"I'll be seeing you soon, Severus," Dumbledore said, a sense of finality in his ancient voice. Albus' blue eyes watched the other man impassively, and all the while, Snape wanted to rage at Albus, to swing his wand around and cast the most powerful curse in his repertoire. In the end, he did nothing, resigned to his dark fate. The room fell silent, with both men staring stonily at the other. Then, a sharp _pop _of displaced air broke the stalemate as Snape Disapparated out of his sitting room.

Albus waited for a solid minute, half-expecting Snape to return with extra firepower, but, fortunately, he never reappeared. With the appearance of an elderly businessman, Dumbledore slipped out the back door and pulled his pocket watch from his robes. Cerulean planets flashed brightly white as the clock face turned midnight.

The child of prophecy was born.

An additional silver hand on the watch pointed upward, moving ever so slightly counter-clockwise as Dumbledore turned the corner of the house. A glance at the stars above showed that his quarry had headed northwest, presumably toward Malfoy manor in Wiltshire.

Albus really did love Muggle inventions. When Wulfric Dumbledore passed away, he had left his prized pocketwatch to his oldest grandson, and the man's name wasn't the only thing Albus still carried with him. He cherished the watch even more because of the multitude of enchantments he had since placed on it, not the least of which was the Protean charm currently linking him with Severus Snape.

Albus shut his pocket watch with a snap and placed it back into his robes, swiftly gathering his bearings in preparation for magical travel. Albus Dumbledore had a date with destiny, but he was afraid he may be too late; he prayed that Malfoy Manor wasn't a smoking ruin by the time the Order of the Phoenix showed up. He shook the depressing thought away; never one to give up easy, Albus spun in place, thinking of his first destination: Hogsmeade.

Somehow, he didn't think Aberforth would be happy to see him.

* * *

><p>"No!"<p>

Bellatrix wandlessly banished a table into the Dark Lady's legs, knocking her sideways; subsequently, Lucius' _Avada Kedavra _missed Elizabeth by inches. What was left of the wall behind her exploded, spraying the Dark Lady with rock, but her feet moved through the danger with the grace of a dancer; she raised her wand high above her head, and the next thing Lucius knew, he was the one diving to the ground, trying desperately to avoid the deluge of shrapnel.

The treacherous women across from him laughed in tandem as he struggled to his knees; his eyes, as well as his wand, were focused on Bellatrix, who had stepped in front of the Dark Lady. Lucius knew then that his sister-in-law had chosen her side for good; if he failed to protect Narcissa, there was no chance of Bellatrix stepping in to do it for him. As he watched, she slowly took up a defensive stance, one that allowed her to counter efficiently; the Lestranges loved to goad their opponents into attacking first. Lucius' lip curled reflexively.

_I should have killed her when she was down..._

"Don't act so _scandalized_, Lucius," Bella hissed, "You would have done the same if _I_ was the one pushing out the child of prophecy-"

"The prophecy does not explicitly say anything _about _my daughter," he said, his tone defiant. Elizabeth raised one hand for silence. "Severus, for all of his _excellent_ eaves-dropping-"

"-never heard the end of the prophecy," Elizabeth bit off, interrupting the man before he could start insulting Severus' judgment. Lucius' sibilant voice stopped, replaced by a wail from Narcissa, who was crying behind the barricade of curtains. Without his eyes leaving Elizabeth, Lucius lazily flicked his wand, and his wife's sobs were silenced.

"Dumbledore barred him from the Hog's Head as soon as he noticed him paying a bit too much attention to Trelawney. Of course, there was nothing our simple _Potioneer _had only the best of intentions, coming to me to immediately relay the proceedings..." Elizabeth smiled, her tone taking on a more sadistic quality. "_Unfortunately_ for you, Lucius, _we_ don't know what the last line of prophecy is," Elizabeth said, smiling, "therefore, your family must suffer in recompense for Severus' _mistake_."

She too, had realized the potential threat in the missing words of prophecy, thus she had consulted Severus seperately, quietly, so as not to arouse suspicion from her Knights. Elizabeth had not divulged all of her plans for the child of prophecy, but it wouldn't have mattered if she did; after all, it wasn't as if Lucius would turn to his hated schoolmate for advice and Snape would likely rather see the Knight in front of him dead than risk his own position in the ranks to help Lucius live.

"Oh ho, the irony!" Bellatrix laughed, as always, finding humor in another soul's strife. "Your demise, inadvertantly caused by your least favorite Death Eater-"

"But _why_?" Lucius said, seething at both women's words. "You can't be certain that she won't... _expell _your powers. Divination is exceedingly difficult to understand, even with all the words of the prophecy at your disposal. For all you know, killing our daughter will destroy _you _in the process! Why take the risk?"

Bellatrix's eyes widened, as did Elizabeth's smile. "You let us worry about that. Either way, _you_ won't be around long enough to see what happens...

"And you, Bella," Lucius said, diverting his attention from the Dark Lady, though he kept his wand trained on the two of them. "You know how much this means to Narcissa," he said, his voice breaking slightly, "and yet you condemn us both to death when _even your Mistress _is unsure?"

"Like I said, Lucius," she muttered, "you would have done the same-"

"I would have protected you! _Narcissa _would have protected you-"

"I _never_ needed protection, you _twit_," she scoffed, her high-pitched voice ringing in Lucius' ears. "I would have killed the _damned _child myself!" Bellatrix looked at Elizabeth with a sickening half-smile on her face. "A single decapitation curse would have done the trick, I think," she laughed. "You see, Lucius... I have _always_ been our Lady's most loyal servant, and after _you're gone_, I will always _be _her most loyal-"

"I should have cut _both_ of your throats when you first darkened my doorstep," he spat. Instantly, a severing curse streamed from his wand, but Bellatrix never lost her mocking grin; why would she, when the Dark Lady had cancelled out his spell before it made it halfway across the room?

"Ah," she said, her expression vicious, "but you _didn't_, did 'ya?" Lucius sought to wipe the look off of Bella's thin, pale face, grinning at his impending doom. "I always told _Cissy_ that you were going to get her killed one day-"

Lucius smiled grimly. "Bet you never told her _you _would be the one doing the job?"

Bellatrix returned fire, a series of potentially debilitating hexes rattling Lucius' impromptu shield. He deflected them left, right, down - anywhere, as long as he stayed alive. However, one of her spells was so powerful that it ate through the magically-reinforced bed curtains next to him and he could see through them enough to make out his wife holding his daughter on the otherside.

"_Urgano Maxi_!"

The Dark Lady's incantation caused almost every thing in the room to levitate, from the smallest speck of dirt to the chairs and tables that were in disrepair. Then, propelled by the force of Elizabeth's magic, the shrapnel flew directly at Lucius. Thinking quickly, he fell to his knees and whipped his cloak around his shoulders so that it protected his face. As he hit the ground, he cast a silent imperturbablecharm on his cloak, saving himself from one hell of an attack by the Dark Lady.

Lucius jumped back to his feet, and this time, his dark curses were more desperate than before as he aimed to incapacitate both witches for good. "_Ahreose Thaec!" _Lucius howled, pushing his magic toward the stretch of ceiling directly above the Dark Lady. With a whirring noise, the spell crossed the distance between them and then crashed into the roof; the entire house shook, a tremendous lurch echoing from somewhere above them.

Lucius smiled grimly.

Elizabeth pushed Bellatrix aside and then screamed, "_Aegis Contego!_" The ceiling collapsed with a final, resounding screech, and tons of marble swept through the roof as this wing of the manor began crumbling from the inside out. Lucius was out of the immediate range of the rock fall and, noticing the trouble Elizabeth was having defending herself, he tried to push his advantage. _"Aqua Eructo!"_

Hundreds of gallons of water streamed from his wand before they could recover, and though Bellatrix's piercing curse nearly ripped his left arm off when it clipped his shoulder, Lucius was swift enough to capitalize on the opening. "_Tempestas Glacialis!_"

His freezing curse struck the water with a wet slap and, in an instant, the cold sensation spread through the water until both witches had their legs encased in ice. The Dark Lady deflected his next spell, the incineration curse, through pure luck, swinging her wand around and silently casting the first shield that came to mind. Bellatrix, however, was not so lucky, when the deflected spell clipped her in the shoulder.

"_Fuck you, _Lucius!" she said, even as her skin began melting off. She couldn't rightly move her arms, and the fire progressed up toward her neck before the Dark Lady could cast the counter curse. "_Help me!" _Bellatrix shouted, her eyes filled with same desperation Lucius had experienced earlier. He watched her writhe in torment like a cat would a mouse that had just been caught in a trap.

"I hope you burn in hell," he told her, smiling, every word dripping with hatred. "For all eternity."

If Elizabeth intended to save Bellatrix, her attempt came too late; the Dark Lady removed herself from the ice around her ankles just a moment before Bellatrix's chest exploded in flame. She howled in rage and agony. "_Elizabeth_!" She shouted, wailing in fear now that the Dark Lady was watching her with morbid curiosity. "_What_ _are you doing?_"

"Go now, my Knight," she hissed, seemingly unbothered by her favorite Death Eater dying in front of her. "You have _served me well_... it's a pity you could not serve me _better_."

Even Lucius was taken back at the callousness of her gesture; Elizabeth turned away from Bellatrix's screams while Lucius watched as his sister-in-law was burned alive. He did not attack again until Bella had been fully engulfed in flame and her panicked, tortured voice was silenced once and for all.

"You never cared about any of us," Lucius whispered, just loud enough for Elizabeth to hear. "A legion of soldiers... all pawns to the wrathful queen."

One, perfectly-manicured eyebrow rose to touch Elizabeth's hairline. "It's not as though you'll be around to share the story," she said, chuckling humorlessly. "Besides, I did half of your job for you. Now we don't have to worry about anyone else intruding-"

A jet of fearsome green light was halfway to him when Lucius saw it; he jumped aside and, fortunately, his awkward momentum found him on the floor, watching as the killing curse swirled past him. Before he could rise, however, Elizabeth already had him on the defensive, a hastily cast _Protego _the only defense he could muster. Her spell crafted a crackling bolt of electricity that caused sparks to fly around his weak shield, leaving his fingers tingling so badly that he almost dropped his wand. Again, Lucius threw himself to the ground to avoid her follow up spell even though he couldn't recognize its effects while rolling across the floor.

Just when he went to cast another curse, Lucius was hit by an explosion from behind; whatever it was Elizabeth cast, it had obviously been a proximity-based spell, and as soon he circled to the Dark Lady's left, the back wall of the room had detonated. This time, he was unable to shield against the shrapnel, and he felt the rock rip through his legs, arms and torso like a knife through bread. Lucius' face bled freely, as his nose had nearly been torn off by the percussive blast but, despite his injuries, he held his head high and his wand erect, ignoring his pain in favor of taking the offensive.

His over-powered blood-boiling curse nearly made its way through the Dark Lady's shield, but Elizabeth turned and deflected it to her right at the last possible moment. A portrait of Lucius' great-grandmother was torn assunder, and the screams of Macrina Malfoy joined the cacophony of shouted spells and explosions in the small room.

"_Eviscero!" _

Lucius' disembowling curse missed Elizabeth when she ducked.

"_Disintegrata!" _

_"Accio!"_

A broken chair, summoned by Lucius, intercepted Elizabeth's return disintegration curse. Wooden shards embedded themselves in his left thigh, and he grimaced, realizing that he would be hobbled from here on out. The battle wasn't over, however, and Lucius' spells were still just as powerful as before.

_"Bombarda!"_

_"Diplopia!_

Lucius' curse missed by a wide margin, and he flailed about as the Dark Lady's double vision jinx took effect; fortunately, the decapitation curse she cast while he was distracted missed him, and he was able to formulate the counter curse quickly enough to continue defending himself. Macrina's muffled tirade came from the portrait, which was now sitting face down on the ground, and the Dark Lady screamed in frustration.

"_How dare you destroy one hundred and eighty years of priceless artistry-_

"Be _silent!_" Elizabeth said, and the next disintegration curse she cast completely eradicated Lucius' great grandmother. Lucius thought it remarkably foolish for the Dark Lady to worry about a portrait in the midst of a duel, and he sought to take advantage of her distraction.

"_Crucio!" _

"_Avada_-"

Lucius' spell connected first, and the Dark Lady stifled a scream of suffering, rolling to the ground in a heap. Her face was contorted in agony, but only for a moment; at the same time, the Dark Lady's killing curse swept by Lucius' right side, impacting the wall and distracting him enough that he let go of his control on the curse - but not his hatred, or his bravado.

He spat at the Dark Lady, more blood hitting the ground at her feet than saliva. Rage flooded his emotions, and all logical fell away, replaced by cold, concentration. He knew that she had few weaknesses, and it was obvious that he was rapidly losing this battle. It was only a matter of time before the Dark Lady landed a final blow, and he was certain that his own death was imminent. The floor was slick with the water from _Aqua Eructo_, tinged red with his blood, and his movement was limited at best, even without the slippery ground slowing him down.

With every heartbeat, Lucius' blood fell onto the floor. With each breath, it was more difficult for him to remain standing. He glanced toward Narcissa, only her arms visible through the curtain, and his eyes found his daughter. She had shockingly blonde hair, just like Lucius, and for a moment, the crying child met his eyes. Strangely, he was drawn to her, unable to turn away, even as the Dark Lady prepared to strike him down, even as the ceiling continued to fall all around him.

_She has beautiful blue eyes just like her mother..._

He wouldn't be able to choose a name for her, but he trusted Narcissa to raise the child right in his absence. Elizabeth was casting another killing curse - he could see it reflected in her red-rimmed eyes - but this time, he felt no urge to dive to the side, nor to summon something to collide with the curse. This time, Lucius focused on his target, eliminating all erroneous thought.

As the last incantation he'd ever cast fell from his lips, he smirked at the Dark Lady.

_Malfoys are born crying, they live their lives scowling, and when they die..._

"_Frethya!"_

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

_...they die smiling._

The killing curse hit Lucius in the chest, but not before his spell struck the curtain surrounding Narcissa. As he keeled over, dead to the world, Elizabeth screamed in frustration; Lucius' last spell, the aptly-named plain sight charm, had hidden the child and mother from view. Not only that, but when Elizabeth's curse shot through the space the bed had just been sitting in, it glided right through, smashing into what was left of the battered wall.

Once she realized that she had been out-maneuvered by Lucius and that she had sacrificed her two best Knights in the process, Elizabeth completely lost control. Curse after curse wrecked the walls around her and still she mindlessly hurled dark magic around the Malfoy's manor, causing calamity to match her anger.

When she was spent, having expelled so much energy that she needed to catch her breath, her adrenaline ebbed away and she began to think more clearly. Elizabeth pressed her wand to her exposed arm, touching her Dark Mark, which glowed a brilliant red on her pale skin.

"Very clever, Lucius," she remarked to herself. "But it's _not _going to be enough. _Severus_," she called, summoning the man who had just unwittingly become her most loyal Knight. "_Come to me..."_

She knew that Malfoy's magic wouldn't last forever - in fact, the particular spell he used would only last a little more than an hour - and she was determined to retrieve Narcissa and her child as soon as it ended. Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do but wait. Once Severus arrived with the Draught of Living Death in tow, she would administer it to Narcissa herself, and take the child or prophecy for her own...

After all, she had no idea what the _power she desired _would be, and as Lucius said, she wasn't sure killing the child wouldn't backfire on her spectacularly. There was no better way to find out what that power entailed than to personally make sure the daughter of the Malfoys was safe and sound. Elizabeth wasn't incapable of showing protecting someone or showing love, she just refused to do it unless it suited her own purposes. If being someone's mother helped her learn some unknown ability... _maybe _she could restrain herself from killing the child of prophecy long enough for her to reach adolescence.

She swept out of the room, black robes billowing behind her, her feet traversing the brick and mortar that now lined the crumbling halls. Her magic had wreaked terrible destruction on the Malfoy's ancestral home, but she wasn't above a bit of home decoration of her own. She headed toward the front door, eager to receive Severus as soon as he arrived, but he wouldn't be alone; she summoned Rodolphus, Rabastan, and what was left of her inner circle, before commanding the other Death Eaters to join them as well.

_Oh, what a sight they will see... _

Elizabeth sneered, even as she checked her wounds in a full-length mirror. With minimal movements, she cured the cuts lining her face and arms from the flying rock and repaired her torn clothing. Her long black hair was also in disarray, but she found that it made her more intimidating and more dangerous looking with it swept lazily behind her shoulders.

She found an expansive arm chair in the sitting room on the ground floor, and she levitated every other item of furniture so that it was resting against the far wall, leaving the room open so that her followers could pile in.

A wicked smile on her face, Elizabeth crossed her legs and waited for her Death Eaters to arrive. What she had to say was certain to get their attention; if it didn't, Lucius Malfoy's severed and mutilated head, lying at her feet, would do wonders for their listening skills.

* * *

><p>Far away from Malfoy manor, covered by a blanket of darkness, Sirius Black smiled. He took another sip from the beer bottle loosely held in his hand and propped his legs up on a neighboring chair, sighing happily.<p>

_This... is as good as it gets._

Insects chirped from somewhere beyond the line of trees, the only sound breaking the comfortable silence. The two men beside him were lost in their own thoughts as well - James Potter was likely to be day-dreaming about his family while Remus Lupin's thoughts were probably more morose, focused on the full moon which was only a few days away. The latter was exceedingly pale, a product of his damnable Lycanthropy.

"Thinking about Pickles again, Padfoot?"

It was just like James to bring _that_ up to interrupt the quiet moment; conveniently, Sirius ignored the fact that Remus was standing right beside him. He swooned ever so dramatically, "She's the only one _I _ever loved-"

"Not this again," he groused. "Pickles was the only Hufflepuff that would ever be foolish enough to _let you love them_," Remus interrupted acerbically, wiping sweaty brown hair off of his forehead. It was a sweltering, muggy night, and the three friends were sharing stories, drinks, and a bag of crisps that kept on refilling no matter how big of a handful Sirius shoved into his mouth. They were seated on James' back patio at Godric's Hollow, enjoying a moment's respite at the end of another long day. "Besides, you _knew_ how I felt-

"Hey, how was I supposed to know you liked her? You were too scared to _tell anyone_!"

James and Sirius enjoyed teasing Remus _far_ too much, and sometimes he missed the days when Wormtail was around to take the heat of off him when his other friends got too out of hand. Alas, poor Remus would have to deal with the embarrassment on his own.

In his youth, he harbored a crush on a lovely brunette from Hufflepuff, but he didn't know her well enough to ask her on a date, so he had settled for buying her flowers and hoping for the best. When Sirius, blissfully unaware of his friend's intentions, ended up asking out the same rather shapely Hufflepuff, she was all too willing to reciprocate his feelings for her. Of course, neither one of them had any idea that Remus had spent his last galleons on flowers for the girl, delivered on Valentine's Day in the Great Hall.

Once the embarrassing story came out to James and, eventually, Sirius, it was bound to come up again.

"_Samantha_ Pickles. Not much on the eyes," James said, lying, just as Lily came into earshot, "but I do recall her being rather smart, which makes it strange she wanted _you_, and not _me, _or at the _very least_ Remus-"

The man in question glared at him from behind his beer. "Thank you, James, for that _fine_ compliment..."

Lily swatted her husband on the back of the neck and kept moving, a tender smile on her youthful face. "Be nice to your friends," she said, hovering near the doorway. Her belly, not so slender these days, wobbled as she walked, stooping over due to her pregnancy. "Besides, you used to think _everyone_ wanted you, James," she said, rolling her eyes.

"They _did_, dear! But the only one I wanted wouldn't give me the time of day!" He flashed his most charming smile, finding Lily's green eyes in the darkness.

"I'm here, aren't I?" she snapped, placing a hand on her hip. Her smile gave her away, however, and James grinned at his wife. "_We_," she said, motioning to her abdomen, "aren't going anywhere, any time soon."

Sirius punched his friend in the arm way too hard, mostly because of the dopey look he was giving his wife and child. "Snap out of it," he said, accidentally sloshing his drink onto his robes, "I'm trying to tell you something-"

"No, you were not! You were just trying to goad _me_ into getting angry," Remus said, a touch of resignation in his tone. He swirled his glass properly and it refilled, a sight that never failed to please the three, mostly intoxicated men.

"Awesome," Sirius said, watching Remus' glass. "How do you always get it right?" There was no doubt that the three men were getting too inebriated for their own good. For a long time, Lily stood beside them, watching Remus trying to teach James and Sirius how to refill their glasses without leaving the patio. Despite herself, Lily giggled, bemused by their childish antics.

Sirius blurted, "Stop it, James! You're doing it wrong-"

"I'm doing better than you," James cried, swatting his friend with his empty glass. Then, glancing back down at his suddenly dripping glass, he yelled, "See! _That_ wasn't there before..."

Remus' monologue persevered despite his friends' squabble. Then again, Lily supposed maybe Remus had tuned them both out. "It's the glass that's enchanted, guys, and the bottle inside the house. As long as you make the proper turn-"

"I _pray_ I don't look like that when I drink," she muttered, shaking her head. She walked back into the house. "I'm going to bed, dear," she told James, who was snickering quietly along with his friends, "you three _try _to get some rest tonight, alright?"

The men wished her a good night with varying degrees of enthusiasm; James, in particular, seemed to have half a mind to follow his wife up the stairs. Sirius waited for Lily to flee from view before he leaned conspiratorally toward James and Remus. "Where was I? Oh yeah, I was going to tell you the _true _story of _Pickles_!"

"I feel like I've heard this story before," James said, laughing.

"A thousand times," Remus said, taking a sip of whiskey, "and yet, it gets more irritating every time he tells it."

Sirius was as resilient as he was drunk. "Once upon a time, there was a girl whose parents wanted her to live in a nunnery-"

James burst out laughing, but Remus' face contorted in annoyance. "They _did not _want her to live in a nunnery, Padfoot-"

"This is _my _story! So, anyway, her Dad was a teacher or _something_," Sirius said, already butchering the story. "Or maybe it was her mom? Whatever it was, it was the Arithmancy professor... I think," he said, pausing to swallow some more of his drink. "_Maybe._"

"Some storyteller you are! You can't even keep your facts straight-"

"Yeah," James said, agreeing with Remus, "I remember you coming back with a black eye that night, and Samantha denied _everything _the next morning-"

"Well, she would, wouldn't she? Daughter of a professor, ain't she?"

"_I_ think you lost a duel with Rosier and just didn't want to tell us."

"What!" Sirius screamed belligerently. "I haven't lost a duel since first year, and that was David McKinnon, and he was a Prefect at the time!" James and Remus laughed uproariously, but in the bedroom not far above them, there was an equally belligerent scream.

"_Quiet_ down there!"

The boys waited all of thirteen seconds before they broke out in giggles. "Some pipes ya wife's got, James. Just wait 'til little Harry's running around this madhouse," Sirius joked, "_you_ won't get a wink of sleep."

James' smile fell a bit, but not enough for either of his guests to make a comment. "Tell me about it," he said, chuckling humorlessly. "I hardly sleep _now_, with Auror training, Order meetings, and rubbing Lily's feet in the dead of night," he admitted, trailing off at Sirius' barking laughter. "It's only 'gonna get worse before it gets better-"

"No worries, mate," Sirius said. "I will always be there to watch your back."

The last of the Blacks was widely considered a deft hand when it came to dueling. As an Advanced auror recruit like James, a banished member of one of the darkest families of wizards in England's history, _and_ a thrill-seeker in general, he had been fighting since he was old enough to hold a wand. Being an Order of the Phoenix member only gave him an additional outlet for his _skills_.

James whispered, "I don't know what Lily and I would do without you two."

"Don't forget, Peter," Sirius said, frowning. Each of them raised their glasses to the sky, honoring their fallen friend. "You won't be forgotten, Wormtail! Not as long as we're still alive to remember-"

Another scream hit their ears, interrupting Sirius; James grabbed his arm in retaliation, a fierce look clouding his features. "I wasn't even that loud that time-"

"That wasn't Lily," he said, frowning. "It's coming from the Floo!"

The three men leapt to their feet, but James was the first one into the house. They rushed into the sitting room where the fireplace was located, and James immediately thought the worst; he had never seen Hestia Jones look so haunted.

"_The Hog's Head_," she said, her face all too pale, despite the green flames flickering across her visage. The sound of Lily's running feet came from the staircase a moment before she followed the men into the sitting room. She gasped in recognition as she reached the ground floor, her attention rivetted on the woman in the flames.

"Oh no," Lily cried, sweeping into motion. Her wand moved like clockwork; from a cabinet in the kitchen she produced three hangover cures and then, after a second glance at the bedraggled expression on Sirius' face, she produced an additional Pepper-Up potion for each of them. "You need this the worst," she told Sirius, shoving the items into the mens' hands.

"You're a lifesaver, Lily," Remus said, smiling faintly. He pulled out the stopper from the vial and drained it in a matter of moments. He grimaced, as did the other two men, but they sobered up almost instantly. James summoned a set of Auror robes and threw them over his head for added protection; Sirius and Remus, whose things were at home, Disapparated from Godric's Hollow, presumably to meet up with the rest of the Order in Hogsmeade.

"Be careful, James," Lily said, biting her lip nervously. He pressed a fervent kiss to her mouth, and waited until she relaxed to pull away. James wrapped her in a hug and tried to ease her worry with a few words, though he knew it was probably a wasted effort; Lily would learn how to do a Wronski Feint before she stopped worrying about the three of them.

"I'll be back before morning," he said, "so _don't worry_. If anyone comes to the front door, you use the Floo and get the heck out of dodge - I don't care if its Albus and Aberforth. Got it?"

She nodded, her eyes already filling with tears. "I need you, James," she muttered. "Don't you dare leave me before we've even started this thing-"

"I will _never_ leave you, Lily," he assured her, holding back tears of his own. "I love you too much."

For one more brief, heart-stopping moment, they looked at each other. Then, James turned on the spot and was gone with a single burst of magic. Lily, frowning, walked to the kitchen to make herself a pot of coffee. Her hands shaked as she grabbed the coffee grounds from the cabinet. Her stomach throbbed painfully as put the filter into place.

_Sorry to worry you, baby. Daddy's gonna be back real soon..._

As the coffee began to slip into the glass container below, tears started trickling down Lily's cheeks. She took a seat at the kitchen table, propping one elbow against the wood to keep her head up. Should anyone walk in through the Floo, she'd be able to hear it as soon as they arrived. If anyone came to the back door, she would see them crossing the backyard. Either way, Lily would be able to ask them questions immmediately, which was exactly how she wanted it. After a moment's consideration, she summoned a Pepper-Up potion for herself as well.

There was _no way_ she was falling asleep tonight.

* * *

><p><em>-End of Prologue, Part Three-<em>


	4. Prologue: Part Four

**PART FOUR**

* * *

><p>Aberforth Dumbledore was a man of few words.<p>

Even as a child, he listened before speaking, and never the other way around. His brother, on the other hand, had been exactly the opposite. Albus was always demanding more from his friends and family, and his obsessive behavior had usually pushed Aberforth to lose his composure. Albus was quick to quarrel in his youth and being the only other man around had left Aberforth on the receiving end of quite a few hexes from the future Headmaster of Hogwarts. Still, Aberforth had handled himself well in the face of an older brother's rage, knowing it was typically fruitless to argue with the greatest wizard of their era when he was determined. A great many people held a grudge against Albus so powerful that it consumed them like a disease, but only very brave souls could challenge him. His best and closest friend, Grindelwald, had challenged him, but the man had been ill-intentioned from the beginning; by the time Gilbert was revealed as an insidiously evil presence in their lives, Albus had already been manipulated into some very foolish mistakes.

Aberforth thought he would hate Albus forever. He even went as far as breaking Albus' nose on the day their sister, Ariana, was laid to rest, but he had taken one look at the anquish in his own brother's eyes and forgiven him. As difficult as it was for him to do, he bit his tongue about all of the mistakes he'd watched Albus make. Together, they struggled through the aftermath like soldiers, but as weeks and months became years and then decades, both had gone seperate ways, and they were grown men by the time they reaffirmed their sibling relationship. By then, neither felt inclined to pry into the other's _business_, even when it was made public knowledge in the _Prophet_.

Albus had gone on to achieve greater things than even he could have dreamed, winning the hearts of the masses with his defeat of Grindelwald. An Order of Merlin, First Class, had heralded his promotion from Transfiguration professor to Headmaster, and it was likely that he could have been elected Minister in each of the last fourteen elections if only he had the notion to run for the office. Yet, he had preferred a life of scholarship, and Aberforth was happy that his brother had found something to fill the void left in the wake of Gilbert's betrayal and Ariana's death: Hogwarts.

Despite retaining his post for the better part of a century, Albus had also dedicated his entire life to achieving a far more difficult, more rewarding goal. He hoped to craft a society that didn't have to live in fear of an impending revolution from its citizens, and while Aberforth could see the hypocrisy in Albus' ideals - after all, how could one hope to bring a great change in what was essentially a pro-Pureblood government without a coup of their own? - the Headmaster of Hogwarts could not be swayed from his system of beliefs.

For a long, long time, Aberforth had given up on trying to persuade his brother that his goals weren't always achievable. More often than not, he accomplished exactly what he set out to do and, even if he had misjudged the situation, his heart was usually in the right place. July 31st at midnight, however, Aberforth didn't hold back when Albus demanded too much from him. Instead, he asked his older brother one question.

"_Are you criminally insane_, Albus?"

When his older brother continued to smile benignly, Aberforth shot him a furious look. "Morality of a priest, faith of a saint, pockets of a pauper, and the mind of a martyr. You've been trying to lay your life on the line for _something _since we were children, Albus, but I'll be damned if I let my brother die over some batty old woman's words!"

"Abe-"

"Don't you _Abe_ me, Albus," he said, seething. "When you asked me what I thought about selling the family estate, I thought you were a bit barmy, but it was always _your _choice. When you gave me every dime and told me to buy a bar in Hogsmeade with it, I thought you'd gone completely senile, but I went along with your wishes. When you asked me if the Order could _occasionally_ meet here, I was all too willing, given the fact that the Hog's Head, in reality, belongs to you... but _this?" _He spluttered, throwing his hands up at Albus. "I _never _expected this!"

Completely out of character for the older man, Aberforth shirked his apron and grabbed himself a bottle of Butterbeer before seating himself on the opposite side of the bar, where the drinking crowd usually came. The 'closed' sign placed on the outside of the dead-bolted and magically-sealed front door would keep away all but their invited guests. Most of the Order members were already assembled, and Aberforth glared at the angry eyes that turned on him at his furious words. The call to arms was underwhelming at best, as Albus had expected something like twenty combattants, but there were only twelve present at the moment.

"Do you honestly think that you can save that girl?" Aberforth asked, lowering his voice. "The only advantage we have over Elizabeth right now is the fact that she doesn't know the last of the prophecy-"

"Sooner or later, she will find out the truth. I did not swear Severus to secrecy after all; if it is his wish to inform Elizabeth of our conversation, then he will do so as soon as possible. Furthermore, even if he never discussed our meeting, the Hall of Prophecy is not impenetrable, Abe; she could take out our guards with one foul swoop and we _still _wouldn't have any leads. Following Severus tonight is the only chance we have to find out where the Death Eaters are located. Tomorrow, Riddle will have torched the place or removed the tracking charm on Severus, and either way, our plans will be dead in the water."

"We're headed into the serpent's lair, Albus! The best we can hope for is getting out with most of our numbers still alive! People will die. It is _unavoidable_. I do not think you have thought this through-"

"I've thought of _nothing else_ since I heard Trelawney's words. You were there, Abe; this could save us from decades of war! How many lives will be lost while we wait for a savior that may or may not be coming? We need to strike tonight!"

"You're wrong, Albus," Aberforth said, as stubborn as his old goat. "The war is coming, and there is _nothing _we can do to change that - not tonight, tomorrow, or at any time in the future. Prophecies are almost always false, and the few times that they are proved to be true, no man, Muggle or magician, could ever hope to change them through force of will alone! _Every time you try you will be denied_. Whether by fate, God, or simple shit luck." He sighed. "You have to be out of your _bloody _mind to waltz in there alone!"

"It's not what it used to be," Albus conceded, lightly rapping the top of his head, "but _my _mind is still in _fine _working order. In fact - and I don't think you'll find many wizards this side of the pond that disagree - I'm rather clever when I put my _bloody _mind to it-"

"Oh, _do_ shut up, you two!" A third voice met their ears, as callous and obtuse as both Dumbledore's remembered. "No matter how hard you try to convince us, Albus, we're not letting you go in there alone." A short, gray-haired man crept into the room, flushed crimson from his burgundy robes and tie to his rosy, red cheeks. "So, _maybe_ you could change the discussion to how we can avoid marching toward death like a legion of lemmings?"

"Morbid much?" The men turned to face the bar's newest arrival, James Potter, who was watching the two brothers with a hint of mischief in his brown eyes. Albus was wearing a grandfatherly smile, but Aberforth still seemed worn and weary, and entirely unprepared for any kind of dueling, much less a fight to the death. "I'm not about to go down without the fight of my life," he said, grinning, "so, let's at _least _act like we've got a chance."

"Hear, hear!" Two red-headed twins chorused before dissolving in laughter. Fabian and Gideon Prewett returned to their own quiet conversation, discussing the impending battle with smiles on their faces. They preferred to stick to themselves unless there was a good joke to be made... or an impending brawl; however, judging by the frown their brother-in-law, Arthur Weasley, was wearing, he found nothing humorous about the situation.

James persisted with his casual smile, projecting a confidence he _certainly _didn't feel. "What do you say, Dedalus?"

The older man, Dedalus Diggle, frowned heavily at the twins in the corner, but he nodded nonetheless. "You're right, Potter," he admitted, a touch guiltily. "We need to stay positive. First things first," he said, turning to face the majority of the Order members, "does anyone know anything _about _Malfoy manor?"

"Sirius _Black _at your service," he said, his lips curling upward in a grin. His was a touch more sadistic than James', which fell at the sight of the gleam in his friend's eye. "My sisters live there... granted, they don't often invite me to visit the Dark Lady's _lair_, but I've been there once more than all of you combined, so I guess I'm your best bet." The young man chuckled, and though he thought he saw the ghost of a smile on Remus' face, his laughter echoed in the nearly silent room. "Not... that we should be gambling with our lives..."

"Yeah, Sirius," James whispered, "maybe _now_'s not the time..."

After an awkward pause that lasted until Sirius cleared his throat, everyone leaned in to pay attention to the exiled Black heir, who made an honest attempt at being constructive.

"Lucius put a _Vis-a-vis _enchantment on the front door; in other words, the master of the house can see through every wall in the house with a simple spell. There are proximity charms draped about the property at random, and the only place you can possibly Apparate into is about the length of _this _bar," he said, pointing behind Aberforth, "and the width of a single broomstick. There's no way we're all going at once. "

Albus broke into Sirius' comments briskly. "Then there is little time to waste. James," he called, "Your cloak, if you please." When the other man nodded, pulling the item from his robes and handing it over, Albus thanked him before laying down the foundations of his plan. "Sirius will Side-Along Apparate me in under the cloak of Invisibility and, once we sneak onto the grounds, I'll create a Portkey and Sirius can Disapparate back."

"How do you expect to Disapparate from the middle of Hogsmeade?" Hestia Jones scoffed, shaking her head so that her long black hair swirled about her neck. "In case you haven't noticed, there's an Anti-Disapparition ward all over the village."

The harsh sound of wood scraping the floor hit their ears only a moment before a gruff voice shouted, "Auror Jones, consider this: who do you think _cast _the Anti-Apparition ward on Hogsmeade?"

She blushed. "It would have to be a Master Auror. I'm assuming it was you then, sir," she said, flinching at Alastor's growling response. "But wouldn't removing it without authorization from the Minister be considered treason?" Fortunately, Albus interrupted "Mad-eye" Moody before he could really build up a head of steam, as he had a look on his face that promised retribution for that comment.

"Excellent question, Ms. Jones," Dumbledore said, the slightest amount of merriment slipping into his voice. "I will have Alastor bring down the wards just long enough for all of us to squeeze through, and no one at the Ministry will be the wiser, thus saving him from any of the consequences of his actions."

Hestia had the good grace to smile politely and look away from Alastor, whose revolving, rotating eye remained fixed on her forehead as if he could attack her with his thoughts alone. James, inwardly laughing at their exchange, reasoned that Moody probably could hurt her with a thought.

Someone asked, "Is it likely that they'll be expecting an attack?"

Albus' smile was a touch predatory. "I do not think she will expect intruders tonight, but we should be on high alert just in case. I have fought Elizabeth under similar circumstances before, and she will expect me to retrieve the child, not fight her followers. Being caught alone on the way to the girl's location will only reinforce that expectation. I will pull the majority of the Death Eater's away from the entrance, and if luck is on my side, the rest of you will catch them off-guard about the time I need an escape route."

There were various complaints raised by the revelation that Albus and Sirius would be infiltrating the manor by themselves, including James' assertion that he needed to be there to watch their backs. Dumbledore compromised with James, explaining that, while Alastor would be a perfect fit for entering the manor last as he could see through walls, thus rendering him the most capable wizard where it concerned retrieving injured Order members. That meant someone technically-skilled and strategically-sound would be needed to keep the others organized and attack at the right moment.

"You will lead the first group, James," Dumbledore stated, as if he was reading James' thoughts. "Make sure to station a contingent by the Apparition point to stop any Death Eaters from fleeing, and keep an eye out for new arrivals."

"Remus," James said, and no other words were needed; Remus nodded, and James added Hestia and Dedalus to Remus' group. "You three keep yourselves _Disillusioned _and on the ground; it's so dark, no one will see you until they step on you."

That left the Prewett brothers, their brother-in-law Arthur Weasley, Benji Fenwick, Dorcas Meadowes, Elphias Doge in his group, while Alastor collected the rest of the Order members. James found himself exceedingly thankful that Dorcas and Benji were both with him, as they were easily capable of fighting multiple Death Eaters at once.

Dorcas was as renowned as Alastor within the Auror ranks, albeit for entirely different reasons. Mrs. Meadowes, then a newlywed, had been a few months away from becoming a Master Auror when her home was attacked in the dead of night. Dorcas had been asleep, and her husband, having a late night snack downstairs, was turned into a werewolf before she even recognized the threat. She saved him from death at the hands of the werewolves, leaving him with only faint scratches down his forearms and a single bite on the neck, but he had smiled sadly before turning his own wand on himself and finishing what the pack of wolves had started.

His last words had been: "It's not your fault. I love you."

After that, Meadowes resigned from the Auror corps to take the fight directly to the Dark Lady's doorstep. As that was exactly what this particular mission entailed, Dorcas was currently sporting a rather menacing expression and, as far as James could tell, she was as ready as anyone could get for an important battle.

Benji, on the other hand, seemed quite calm, given the cacophony of shouts and pleas from the other members as they prepared for battle. James found himself drawn to the other man, mostly because he was beckoning him over with one, long-fingered hand. "Yes, sir?"

"I undestand you'll be in charge," Benji said, looking up at the thinner, taller man, "but, with all due respect, you're not the most talented in our ranks." James had not been expecting the mild-mannered man to insult his skills, and Fenwick grinned cheekily at James' recoiling response. "I saw you looking at Dorcas just now, and we both know she's more talented than the two of us combined."

A part of James still grumbled at the other man's dismissal of his talents, but he forced himself to relent; obviously, there wasn't much James could take off of a Master Auror, as Alastor had proven to him time and time again during Auror training. "You're right," he said, though it hurt him to admit it. "She could probably give Mad-Eye a run for his money."

Benji nodded, glancing covertly at the stony-faced brunette across from them. "She's got a hell of a vendetta against the Dark Lady and every thing she stands for. That's why I need you to watch out for her, James; she's powerful and intelligent, but... she's also dead set on revenge, and that makes her reckless. It is quite likely that she will try to fight Riddle head on no matter who the Dark Lady is standing with." Benji sighed, looking sorrowful. "In reality, there is very little we can do to stop her, but if you know the situation beforehand..."

James nodded, his thoughts moving a mile a minute. He respected Dorcas for her dedication to the cause, but he didn't want to see her, or anyone else, die tonight. He knew there was nothing he could say to her to alleviate the memories of her husband's death but if one small change in plans could take her away from the Dark Lady...

"I will do my best, sir," he promised, shaking Benji's hand firmly. The older man frowned, shifting himself out of his seat with a sharp intake of breath. "Is there something wrong, Mr. Fenwick?"

"Old bones, Mr. Potter," he admitted. He wasn't as old as Dumbledore, but Fenwick wasn't exactly a spring chicken either; Ben had been one of the first students to graduate under Albus' Transfiguration tutelage, along with young Minerva McGonagall. With a swish and a flick of his small, cylindrical wand, a pink flourescent light engulfed Fenwick's legs, caressing the aches and pains from his arthritic limbs. "They'll hurt like the Dickens later, but that'll hold me over for now."

Smiling, James patted Benji on the shoulder lightly and moved away, hoping to lure Sirius into conversation before his friend Apparated into danger. The man in question was having a whispered conversation with Dumbledore when James walked up next to them. He waited patiently for both men to finish talking, and then James shook Albus' hand, wishing his old Headmaster luck. Last, but not least, James yanked Sirius into a one-armed hug that drew a few half-hearted wolf whistles from the crowd.

"Be careful, Padfoot," he warned, ignoring the mock-lovestruck expressions the Prewett twins were giving them. "We both know that Lucius and Elizabeth know more dark magic than the rest of the Death Eaters combined, so keep your eyes peeled and your head on straight."

"_I'm _not the one you should be worried about," Sirius said, frowning as he glanced at Albus. "Dumbledore wants to take Elizabeth head on. By his reckoning, if he has her attention on him, the rest of the Death Eaters will be busy trying to assist her or take her orders, and they won't be protecting the perimeter. After I retrieve the rest of you, its my responsibility to find the girl."

James nodded. "Find her, and get her the _hell_ out of there. Who knows what the Dark Lady has planned for her..."

"Ready, Sirius?" Albus asked, cutting off his heated conversation with Aberforth. The other man slinked away into the shadows, but James had no doubts about Abe's character; he was well-respected amongst Order members for a reason, as he had saved quite a few Hogsmeade residents from persecution by the Ministry or revelry at the hands of the Death Eaters. The Hog's Head was the dingiest, cheapest bar in the village by far, but there was a bounty of secrets hidden behind its walls.

"As I'll ever be," he quipped. Then, he turned back to his best friend. "Love you too, mate," he added, shrugging off James' rather firm grip to join Albus by the front entrance.

James and Remus shared a drawn, worried expression that Sirius didn't see, but they made no move to follow their friend, knowing that each had their own role to play in the night's proceedings. Albus walked over to admire the magic coming off of Alastor Moody, who was also by the door, waving his wand in supremely-complicated motions.

As sweat trailed down the Alastor's lop-sided visage, he growled, "You've got three minutes to get everyone in there." He never stopped the movements of his wand, connecting them in such a way that he truly was a sight to behold. Jets of red, orange and purple fizzled from the tip of his wand, spiralling around Sirius and Albus. Both men turned on the spot and vanished, but Alastor continued his tiring efforts as the seconds stretched on.

"Get ready," he said, pale-faced and panting. "He's coming-"

Sirius appeared from thin air and then slammed to the ground in front of Alastor. The young man's face cracked against the hard wood in such a way that James imagined he'd have to _Reenervate _his friend but, fortunately, Sirius climbed to his feet, unconsciously wiping the blood from the cut on his jawline. "Everyone hurry," he muttered, beckoning the others forward with both arms outstretched. "Dumbledore already made his way inside..."

There was scattered small talk as the others assimilated by the entranceway, standing as close as they could without being uncomfortable. Some voices were excited, and others were a touch panicked, so James called out, "Everyone-"

"CALM DOWN!" Alastor boomed, still maintaining the difficult spell. His voice sliced through the noise, and the Master Auror stared them all down in the resulting silence, chilling them with the furious expression etched over every war wound he'd ever received. "This ain't no _damn _company picnic! Get yourselves in order! THAT MEANS YOU, POTTER-"

James did not need to be told twice; the slender young man leapt into motion, directing the other members into position. His group would make the jump first, and he literally pushed Fabian and Gideon into the circle provided by Alastor's spell. "Squeeze in," he said, waving for Arthur, Benji and Dorcas to get closer to him. In the end, they were all rather stifled, and Elphias was crushed between Fabian and Gideon, but James was confident they would make the Disapparition successfully. He found himself face to face with the only woman in the group, whose expression had gone rigid as the magic began to caress her shoulders.

"We can do this, guys," James encouraged, his eyes lingering on Dorcas. She didn't look intimidated by what was to come but, even though he longed to say something to ease the sudden hostility that had taken over the woman, he knew that her fierce hatred for the Dark Lady would serve her well where his words would not. "Stay tight," he said. "Dumbledore's already inside, so lets head straight for the front door..."

"Ready, James?" Sirius asked. The portkey in his hand was actually Dumbledore's sweaty sock, and James barely supressed the urge to let go when the cool sensation spread over his hand.

"As I'll ever-"

That was as far as James got, as he felt a distinct jerk behind his navel followed by the rising tide of phlegm in his throat. James struggled with the landing, and Sirius' eyes were glittering with humor, but no one spoke, too busy collecting themselves from the ground. In an instant, the urge to laugh dissipated, replaced by an irresistable compulsion:

"MOVE!"

Someone screamed, "Six o'clock!"

James turned to look behind himself, but he saw nothing, and then-

"Three on your left-"

"_Bombarda!"_

A spell zipped over their heads, just barely missing Arthur, who had been one of the last to find his bearings on the new terrain. James instinctively swung his wand to the left and aimed a few meters ahead of the onrushing Death Eater. Cheekily, he cast a Hair-Thickening charm, followed by a Full-Body bind. The first spell hit, causing the white mask on the man's face to come flying off under a deluge of growing hair, but the Full-Body bind was deflected by another wizard's well-cast shield. The running Death Eater tripped and slammed hard against the ground, and James had just struck out at the man's accomplice when he spotted a red-tinged curse coming from his left and ducked.

"_Protego!"_ Sirius shouted, and the spell shot back the way it came. "James! I have to get to the others. Can you hold-"

"Just go!" James said, shoving his friend toward the Apparition point. It seemed like the Death Eaters had converged on the site, perhaps aware that the Order members were coming in groups. James couldn't see Dumbledore anywhere around, which wasn't necessarily bad news - at least he didn't see the Dark Lady either.

Dorcas was moving so swiftly that James had trouble making out where she was against the inky darkness; lights of red, orange and blue poured from her wand, and she never focused on the same target for long. Benji was directly to her left, taking a more defensive approach; his quick work with Shield charms allowed Fabian and Gideon to focus on attacking the Death Eaters. Arthur tried to lead them all toward the front of the house but it wasn't long before one member of the group fell, stopping all of them before they could get even a third of the way across the yard.

"He's been hit!"

Elphias was screaming, having been clipped in the lower leg by a cutting curse, but Arthur had already dropped to one knee, casting _Ferula _to stimmy the blood loss. Doge gritted his teeth, raising his wand to produce a shield that inadvertently blocked a curse headed for Dorcas. It seemed like the Death Eaters knew her on sight, as they were trying to concentrate their attack on her first, so James made a plan to use their distraction to his own advantage.

"Fabian, Gideon!" James shouted over the din. Gideon was too busy casting curse after curse, but, fortunately, Fabian looked up. Gesticulating wildly, James told the two men to follow Dorcas' lead. He wasn't sure how well received his message was, but Fabian nodded and began hurling hexes at Dorcas' targets, and James couldn't spare them anymore time; his eyes followed a single Death Eater who was circling to their left, trying to flank them.

"_Erecto!" _James shouted, and a mound of dirt shot from the ground, transforming into a thick barricade that protected the rest of the group from the flanking Death Eater. Spell after spell connected with the mound, causing a cloud of dirt to rise high over everyone, including James, but he used tactic that his Muggleborn wife had proposed to him; James skillfully transfigured the particles of sand in the fog into Fiberglass before casting _Deprimo_, using a powerful gust of wind to blow the cloud back onto the Death Eaters.

Very few wizards could have actually pulled off the feat that James attempted, although he admitted to himself that there were only a few Purebloods that even knew what _plastic_ was. Beyond that, it took no small amount of precision to change all of those particles instantaneously, and to actually control _Deprimo _well enough to blow the cloud back onto his target.

James heard hacking coughing, so he scaled what was left of the dirt mound as one would a hill, running full speed up one side before leaping into the air and casting a wide area fire spell. The man closest to James screamed, taking a blast of smoke into his lungs, and he began scraping his eyes with his fingers just as he was clipped by a Stunner from Dorcas and thrown to the ground. Unfortunately, it was only a matter of seconds before the Death Eaters recognized the danger; their leader called for them to move back to avoid inhaling the cloud, and their formation changed with a well-drilled fluidity, leaving the Order members on the defensive.

As soon as James landed, he cast a preemptive shield, absorbing a curse from his left; knowing that his improvisation had only given them a little time, James turned and ran as fast as he could toward his group. "Shields up now! Move toward the front door-"

The cloud behind James suddenly reverted course, headed back the way it had come; he realized belatedly that he wasn't the only wizard who knew _Deprimo_ - not that it really came as a shock. Arthur heaved Elphias up by one arm and was guiding the man forward as quickly as they could go, so Dorcas stopped attacking to defend the barrage coming from across the lawn. James didn't have time to stop the cloud from reaching him, so he silently cast a Bubblehead charm on himself and kept running.

The cloud abated behind James as Benji's quick wandwork reverted the Fiberglass back into dust. It wasn't a tripping jinx that caught him, but he soon found himself launched off of his feet, and he fell into a copse of manicured trees near the front of the house, sliding on his stomach as he roughly came to a stop. A bit dazed, it took him a few seconds to come to, during which a Death Eater had cornered him and was going in for the kill.

"_Avada-"_

He shook himself mentally and then silently summoned a potted plant that collided with his opponent's killing curse. With that, James rose to his feet again, trying to ignore the burning sensation in his calf long enough to mount an offensive. The Death Eater was terribly fast and rather strong too, battering James' impromptu shield with a selection of curses until James stepped aside, letting the shrubbery absorb the damage. He finally got out a hex of his own, but he missed his opponent by some distance when he was forced to jump away from another killing curse.

Fortuitously, James' momentum left him falling backwards and away from the curse, but he slammed into the front door and then through the entrance of the manor. He glanced around to see marble tile to his left and he heard a shout of surprise; fearing an attack from behind him, James scrambled to his feet just as spellfire came from within the manor. The Death Eater, who had given James such a hard time, followed him into the house proper. Desperate to flee, he snatched at the running man's legs and accidentally tripping him into the crossfire; the Death Eater shrieked, flailing his arms as he was impaled through the shoulder and flung aside with the weight of a tremendous Banishing charm. His mask fell off as he was propelled through the air, and he crashed into the limestone patio in the front yard where he rolled to a stop and did not move again. The boyish face unveiled by the removed mask reminded James of a Hogwarts student nearly his own age, though, lost in the moment, he couldn't quite think of the boy's name.

James had no time to worry about the man's plight; he found Arthur running full speed toward him and he grabbed the man around the midsection, slinging the two of them to the ground; less than a second later, a killing curse slammed into the outside of the mansion, jarring one of the support columns loose. A sizeable chunk fell on James' head, leaving a gash across his temple; he stared hard-faced at Arthur, who stood to berate him for throwing him to the ground, but was quelled by the expression on James' face. "They've got us pinned. We've got to turn back-"

An explosion from inside the door nearly knocked him off of his feet, and James reached out to grab Arthur again to steady himself. "What the hell was that-"

"Just run!" Arthur yelled. "We'll find out soon enough!"

It wasn't long before James and Arthur met up with Fabian. He was dragging his brother, who was unconscious and bleeding from a cut on the back of his head. Arthur blanched, knealing to cast a diagnostic on Gideon, but James was mindful of the battle brewing next to them; his voice rang out with a Shield charm before he screamed at the other men for being lackadaisical.

"Wake up! You can't lose your head here!" He punctuated his statement by casting a cork-screwing, spiralling silver curse that caught a running Death Eater in mid-stride; the man's legs were displaced with a sickening crunch as the bones abruptly shrunk, looking to Arthur's eyes like a Muggle accordion. He couldn't look for long, however, as the man began screaming his head off. Taking pity on the Death Eater, Fabian cast a Stunner that put him in blissful slumber.

"Sorry, boss," Gideon said snidely, just having been _Reenervated _by Arthur, "but I almost _did_ lose my head-"

Another thunderous explosion sounded, roughly pulling him from his thoughts; he realized with sudden clarity that the noise he had been hearing was one of the Dark Lady's Knights battering Dorcas and Benji's defenses with absurdly powerful curses. The two of them were pinned down, and James' heart leapt into his throat as Benji went down to one knee, struggling to keep control of his shield.

"James, we have to do something-"

At the same time that Arthur's panicked voice reached him, louder than the cacophony of spellfire already piercing their ears, James heard a sound that gave him renewed strength - the sound of the other Order members Apparating. James' lips quirked upward in a smile just as a red flash surprised him from his right; Elphias screamed something unintelligible and then James was slammed into the ground, knocked senseless and breathless.

_Can't lose your head, eh, James? Great advice-_

His vision blanked as he rolled around in pain, unable to think clearly. He half-expected to be eviscerated by another curse, but someone must have closed in to protect him; after what seemed like an eternity, but was likely a matter of seconds, James shakily climbed to his knees, his battered rib cage protesting every movement. Sirius was standing in front of him, hawk-like eyes scanning the darkness for Death Eaters.

"Padfoot!"

The Knight, flanked by Death Eaters, had given up on attacking Dorcas and Benji now that those two had reinforcements; in the interval, he had sent his troops to surround the fallen James, and Sirius, who had rushed forward to defend his best friend, was rattled by a series of curses that forced him to his knees. On his weakened leg, James stood and produced a solid silver shield, just a moment before Sirius' shield deflated in front of them. "About time," he muttered, in between large gulps of air, "I was... about to lose it."

"I saw," James choked, also breathing heavily.

Sirius growled, showing his teeth, though James was pretty sure his friend was relieved James was fine rather than annoyed it had taken him so long to help. "You should be thanking me," he groused, climbing back to his feet with a groan.

"I'll thank you when this is all over," James quipped, awkwardly jogging past his friend and toward the others. The pain in his leg flared up suddenly, becoming too much to bear, and he stumbled as he reached Arthur. "Damn," James cursed, "my leg's locked up-"

Simultaneously, Arthur looked down and gasped. "Merlin's beard," he shouted, dropping to a knee to inspect James' calf. "How are you even walking?"

James, confused by Arthur's question, finally looked down at his wounded leg in surprise; a splintered piece of rock had shot clean through the back of his knee, carving through his skin. The back of his leg throbbed and he nearly lost his breath again, as he saw bone through the gaping wound; even Sirius, just catching up with him, winced at James' injury.

James snapped his head up from looking at his leg and pointed at the growing contingent of Death Eaters, now streaming from the Malfoy's front door and on to the manicured grass; he told Sirius in no uncertain terms to stop worrying about him. "Put the girl first," he said, his tone solemn. "No one else will be able to find her in time. I will be _fine_..."

Nodding, Sirius bid his friend farewell before he donned James' cloak; instantly, he disappeared into the darkness, presumably headed for the entrance of the manor.

James desperately hoped his friend wouldn't find the Dark Lady on the other side.

As Arthur went to work on James' leg, removing the rock before he cast _Ferula _to stop the blood-letting, the other Order members converged on them, spearheaded by Alastor and, surprisingly, Aberforth. The fight was even now, as the Order retaliated on the Death Eaters with equal force. The enemy had focused on defeating James and Sirius, giving up their position, and now they struggled to defend themselves properly even with the increased numbers from within the mansion.

Remus rushed to Arthur's side as quickly as he could; dropping to his knees, he supported Arthur by casting _Interglo, _which would numb James' angry gash until he could be seen by a proper healer. Remus frowned at the amount of blood still pouring from James' leg, but otherwise said nothing; they were all too busy attacking and defending to worry over a wound that wasn't life-threatening.

James flexed the muscles in his leg and felt confident he could stand. "Thanks," he grunted, slapping Remus on the back. He knew he wouldn't be much use to his team in this shape, but it was better than being a corpse. James chipped in where he could, and after a few badly aimed curses, he finally succeeded in hitting one of their enemies with a _Bludgeoner_, though he couldn't tell if the Death Eater was incapacitated by his attack or not.

"Damn," Arthur cursed, after he was nearly crushed by one of Malfoy's statues flying across the yard, "we've got to do something-"

"_Trying_," Remus murmured, deflecting a Cutting curse high into the air. "Any bright ideas, James?"

Sometimes, James wondered why they turned to him for bright ideas when he was probably the least intelligent of the trio. In a dangerous situation, however, James was second to none; after all, this wasn't the first time he'd been pinned down by Death Eaters. James glanced behind them and to the left, spying the gargoyle now partly-embedded in the wet earth; he flicked his wand sharply and spun it a quarter-turn to the right, aiming at the battered-looking statue.

Within seconds, the broken stone liquefied and stretched, as the gargoyle's well-defined wings were born anew. The beast flew into the air with an almighty _woosh_, and James felt the cool wind against his face as the gargoyle came to the ground to stand protectively in front of him, acting as his own personal guardian. James smirked as the gargoyle stared the Death Eaters down; bits and pieces of stone were being ripped from the gargoyle with each passing second but, reinforced by James' Transfiguration, it held up against even some of the opposition's most dangerous spells.

It wasn't much, but the gargoyle was mobile, darting left and right to intercept curses, and it gave the Order time to put a plan together. James yelled, "On my word, everyone cast as many Stunners as you can. Aim for the center of their group-"

The gargoyle was finally breaking down, now that the Death Eaters were using _Avada Kedavra_. James waited until the next set of spells would rip through the gargoyle, and then he shouted, "_NOW!_"

The men leapt into action, red bursts of light illuminating the manicured landscape far more brightly than the moon hanging overhead. The Death Eaters, unprepared for a sudden shift in momentum, were decimated by Dorcas and Benji, Alastor and Aberforth all attacking them along with so many well-aimed stunners from James' group. A shout of victory rang from Arthur's mouth as they crossed the divide, careful not to let their guard down since there were still some enemies mounting a defense.

Alastor was as quick as James remembered from training, and it seemed as though two different curses were always leaving his wand simultaneously. Aberforth was summoning wands from the ground, smiling grimly as he began snapping them in half. Benji had moved with Elphias and Dedalus to duel two surviving Death Eaters, who were very quickly being overwhelmed. Dorcas, however, was standing still, facing the entrance to the manor.

"Dorcas," James whispered, slowly walking up to the blank-faced woman. Her eyes were glued to the Malfoy's front door, where a soft blue light was shining around the frame. "What's going on-"

"Nothing good," she muttered. She spoke so softly James almost couldn't make out her words against the din. "House ownership is always contentious... especially when a murderer apportions the estate for _herself_. What you're seeing... it's _ancient _magic, James; the type of magic you've read about but never heard an incantation to. That blue light will not subside until late this evening, when a decision is made on who will hold the power of house Malfoy. By which time, it will be far too late for us to help Albus..."

James' face paled significantly, even in the darkness. "There's absolutely no way in?" he asked. "You have to be kidding me-"

"_No_, James," she said, her voice resolute. "You would jeopardize your own life and anyone that followed you."

Despite her words, James stumbled forward, even as Arthur tried holding him back from the door. Most of the Order members had turned their focus to the blue light, a perilious reminder of what was behind that door.

"I can't just leave Sirius in there to die! The Headmaster,he can hold his own, but Padfoot-"

Dorcas grabbed him roughly by the shoulders. "Get ahold of yourself, _Auror_." Harshly, she shoved him away, but it was her use of his title that shocked him out of his apprehension. Aurors could not afford to be distracted by loss of life, no matter the circumstances. Dorcas, once she saw the realization on James' features, softened her expression slightly. "You _will_ see your friend when this is over. Right now, you need to get that leg looked at by a professional-"

"Dorcas," Benji snapped, grabbing the woman's attention, "Alastor has gone to fetch the Aurors; they'll need to scavenge what they can from the captives, and they can lend us a hand if things turn for the worse-

Even as Benji and Dorcas' conversation drifted into other topics - namely, how they could quickly gather the Aurors - James continued gaping openly at the older woman. While he knew she was right, and that Sirius would use every trick in the book to keep himself alive, it didn't make the obvious truth any more easy to swallow. The battle was all but won, as the Death Eaters still standing had already fled along with their Knight companions, whether by design or fear of reprisal by the Order.

He knew Dumbledore was capable of standing up to the Dark Lady, but Sirius, for all of his dueling prowess, could not hope to beat her in a fair fight.

Then, despite the unease creeping its way into his gut and the sharp twinge from his leg, James felt the corner of his mouth rise upward in a smirk.

_It's a good thing Sirius never fights fair_...

Dark hair blocked her wand from view, but Severus knew all too well the type of magic his Mistress was performing. After all, he had seen Lucius use the same spell many times before, when he had been Master of his ancestral home. Elizabeth, the surreal and sinister beauty in front of him, now carried that title and the immense power that came with it.

Snape had been doubtful that the Dark Lady could fulfill her promises to him, but her brutal _acquisition_ of Malfoy manor now had him convinced; the ease with which she persuaded the ancient home to accept her as Master was as amazing as it was reassuring. He was certain she could protect him from Dumbledore, and any Ministry Auror unfortunate enough to be saddled with his case would surely perish before they reached the Potions dungeons hidden beneath the manor...

Blue, effervescent light surrounded Elizabeth, and to Snape's eyes, her pale, unmarred neck had never seemed so appealing; still, when she turned back around, her eyes were red and filled with resolve, and she stormed down the Malfoys' prestine halls. Her feet made quick work of the marble stairs, and he rushed to follow her. Rabastan Lestrange and Augustus Rookwood trailed behind them, eerily quiet next to the brewing storm that was the Dark Lady's aura.

In fact, even as she fled down the staircase, the metal rails on either side of her shook with the gales of magic she was inadvertently producing. Snape, enraptured by the show of power, silently watched the Dark Lady.

Elizabeth, on the other hand, was as focused and determined as always, plotting out her next move. The Death Eaters outside of the manor - _her _manor - would not be able to join her, but it was a necessary sacrifice, if only to keep Dumbledore, Narcissa and the damnable child within reach long enough to dispatch all three. With the small exceptions of Rodolphus, who she had sent outside, as he was far too unstable after Bellatrix's death (at Lucius' hands) to trust him around the Malfoy's child, and the three men trailing behind her, Elizabeth's most important Knights were gathered in the main sitting room at the front of the house.

She had instructed them to guard the exits in case one of her _guests_ saw fit to leave. She rid the place of any Floo powder, every door and window had been sealed off with her attempted acquisition of the ancient manor, and the only Apparition point was outside of its impenetrable walls. She hoped the admittedly piteous force she had left outside _would not_ be enough to drive off the Order. She just wanted to cause them trouble until the second act arrived...

_Oh, what a finale I have planned for you, Albus..._

Elizabeth was confident she would be successful, but she knew better than to assume it was inevitable; in reality, there were possibilities she had not accounted for, that could become blatant flaws in an otherwise brilliant plan. Dumbledore was obviously set on finding the child first, and if he retrieved the Malfoys' daughter before she could reach the girl, there would be little she could do to stop him when his phoenix showed up to whisk them away. Thus, her next move should be simple: Elizabeth would have to find Narcissa before her one time professor got his hands on the child.

Fortunately, Lucius' _Frethya _spell would hold for a while longer; for now, there was another priceless item that she had to retrieve.

Downward she went, deep into the bowels of the mansion, until the staircase became a hallway and there was no light left except from the flickering torches lining the corridor ahead of them. Snape could feel sweat beading on his brow the deeper they travelled; the temperature had risen steadily, owing to the burning flames and the tight quarters they were navigating. In fact, he was considering casting a cooling charm on his heavy robes when they turned a corner and were presented with a tribute to the Malfoys' affluence: a vault, crafted solely from Goblin gold.

Severus had seen quite a few vaults in his day, courtesy of the mine carts at Gringotts, but none quite so astounding as the glimmering gem-encrusted, gold-rimmed archway in front of him. He was certain that the entrance to this room alone was worth more than his own house and the entirety of its contents. Rabastan and Augustus also shared an envious look, though they retained their sudden penchant for silence as they followed Elizabeth into the vault.

Sure enough, the walls were lined with artifacts that would put most museums in the world to shame, and if anyone had ever doubted the Malfoy's wealth, the proof was right here. Gold and silver shined from every direction, but there were piles of diamonds, precious gems and quite a few antiquities and tomes that Snape was sure Rookwood would spend _years_ studying. Rabastan seemed to be strongly considering scooping up a few handfuls of gold and hiding them in his robe pockets, and Snape inwardly prayed that the man would; it didn't take a genius to realize the Dark Lady would strike down the first person who stole from her, and Severus was on less than pleasant terms with the Lestrange brothers.

He turned away from Rabastan; his black eyes sought the platinum cauldrons lining the far wall, as well as the atrium beyond it. The gargantuan room housed priceless ingredients he had only dreamed of touching, never expecting an opportunity, so Snape had to use Occlumency to reign in his excitement. The angry, partially psychotic expression on the Dark Lady's face did wonders to clear his mind; whatever she was looking for was of the upmost importance to her, something that wasn't lost on the thoughtful Potioneer. He filed away the information for later, resolving to pay special attention to anything Elizabeth took out of the room.

"Where did he put it," she hissed, causing the men behind her to shift uneasily. "It would be well hidden…"

Elizabeth's quiet foot steps came to a halt. Snape turned to see that the Dark Lady eyeing one bookshelf curiously. Snape's eyes widened; the wooden shelf was entirely too mundane for the room, an oddity amongst the priceless relics. "_Accio _Diary.."

Snape resisted the urge to jump as a thick, leather-bound black book zipped across the room and came to rest gently in Elizabeth's long-fingered hands. He saw the look of satisfaction rip across her features, soon devoured by her own Occlumency. Emotionlessly, as if she had merely borrowed light reading material for later, she turned to face Severus, Rabastan and Augustus.

"My Knights," she began, gripping the spine of the diary firmly in her hand. "There is much to be done. I will not waste your time with guidelines and rules, as you already know what is expected of you as my _most cherished_ followers. You three are well-accustomed to battle - this I know, as I have watched you grow with my own eyes, and I have tested your abilities - but you do not serve best on the battlefield. You have a higher purpose. For the time being, the three of you are far more important to me... _here_."

Elizabeth walked in a circle around the room, but the men remained still, always watching their Mistress. She passed every bookcase, every pile of gold, ignoring the abundant wealth. She only paused twice, hesitating in the entrance of the atrium that Snape yearned to explore and the library Rookwood was likely to haunt. Severus could see that some rooms had additional hallways, including one entrance with a pristine sign hanging above it that simply: House Beasts_. _He idly wondered what sort of animal the Malfoy's would deem _beasts, _and how many of them shared common ancestry with humans. He would not be surprised to find a veela, a goblin, or even a werewolf chained to the wall, though he vowed to steer clear of the room, if only for the sake of his sanity if his suspicions were true.

_What's left of it..._

Elizabeth's pacing finally came to a stop in the center of the room. She arched her back slightly, and Severus caught himself drinking in the sight of his Mistress. Her voice was a touch mournful when she finally spoke, but Snape had a sneaking suspicion her behavior was all for show – she was as happy as she had been in years. "The Malfoy family was... part of our society, no matter their dreary fate. Under other circumstances, their child would have served as a model for young Purebloods entering our fold. However, a different _fate _has come to pass for the ancient house of Malfoy, and now the house itself has passed... to _me_."

"Magic is wondrous, is it not? When every court in the land would have rejected my claim, the ancient magic is far more malleable than any _man_, forming opinions and notions of its own. Perhaps my predilection for... _unsavory _behavior," she said, a vindictive expression on her lips, "has given us an unforseen opportunity. Malfoy manor has recognized me as blood; whether that comes as a result of my extended residency here or the murder of its _esteemed _host, I can not truly say, nor does it matter. What once belonged to Lucius, and to dear Narcissa, is now _mine_."

There was a long pause as Elizabeth scanned the first page of the thin book in her hand. She seemed inordinately pleased to Severus' eyes, but he couldn't rightly explain why he felt that way. A glance to his left and right showed that Rabastan and Augustus did not seem to be any more knowledgeable than Snape on the matter, easing his consternation somewhat.

"Which brings me to my point, gentlemen," she continued, shutting the book once more. "It is likely that Lucius stowed away every important text and artifact that his ancestors have collected _in this room_. As the brightest men in my ranks, it falls to you to divine every thing you can from the items at your disposal."

Snape forced himself not to blink, lest his dream world come crashing down on him. The prophecy had fallen in his lap weeks ago, and now, the greatest collection of Potion's ingredients he had ever seen in one place was at his fingertips. However, despite his building excitement, he was forced to wonder...

_What's the catch?_

"Severus," she said, sibilantly, gracing him with a prim smile, "you may brew to your heart's content. Augustus, of course, will assist you if it's necessary, but he will be quite occupied scanning these texts for... _useful _spells, and he may not always have _time_ for you." Her red-rimmed eyes glimmered with amusement, as she pulled a curious-looking necklace from a nearby shelf and presented it to the stunned Unspeakable. Severus, who had not seen the item before, recognized the item from countless descriptions he had read. Augustus Rookwood was now an extremely-fortunate owner of one of the realm's most powerful tools: a Time Turner.

"Last, but not least," Elizabeth purred, placing her palm lightly on Rabastan's shoulder, "I have atask for you, my Knight." He smiled briefly, an expression that looked laughable on such an anemic, pock-marked visage. "_You_ are to retrieve your brother, who will bring me... the_ gift _I gave dear Bellatrix long ago." At the uncertain glance Rabastan gave her, the Dark Lady snarled. "_Do _as I _say_, Lestrange," she warned, scratching the nape of his neck with her sharp fingernails. He shivered noticeably, but was quick to agree to her terms, rattling off an apology that was summarily ignored by Elizabeth.

She faced all three men with disdain on her face, though Snape imagined she must be pleased by these turn of events. "Any questions?" Then, before they could answer, she added, "_Splendid_. I will expect each of you to report to me when you have something _of interest_. Otherwise, I don't want to see you outside of this vault. Understood?"

There weren't any questions, so Elizabeth turned her focus to other issues. "_Tempus_," she muttered, checking the time. It was a quarter to one, telling her that she still had a few more minutes until the child and its mother reappeared. "If you must rest, find yourself an empty bedroom on the ground floor. If you must eat, one of the house elves will serve you. Nothing else should be necessary, and I will see to it that you _are not_ disturbed."

With those words, the Dark Lady swept out of the vault, leaving the three men to stare at her retreating form with various expressions of concern. Snape worried mostly for himself and felt very little remorse for doing so. On the other hand, Augustus seemed oblivious to anything but the tiny trinket in his palm, and Rabastan looked baffled, for he could not read the intentions behind Elizabeth's request.

Snape offered them no advice or shoulder to turn to; instead, he shook himself slightly and walked into the atrium proper, pleased by the prospect of experimenting with his new batch of ingredients. He just hoped to remain safe from danger, whether it was the battle brewing somewhere above them or the shrewd, sometimes _sacrificial_ calculations of his Mistress.

He couldn't believe his fortune - that Lucius and Bellatrix had killed themselves off in such a grisly manner had been a stroke of excellent luck for Severus - and the prosperous turn of events had only just begun. Snape just prayed that he'd stay alive long enough to enjoy his new riches.

Setting to work, Snape spent a few minutes orienting himself to his new surroundings, running his hands over the glass containers and taking care to read the labels of anything he didn't immediately recognize. Unconciously, he replicated Dumbledore's behavior at Spinner's End earlier in the evening, pocketting what he deemed necessary for his own exploits - namely, staying alive if there was a need for it.

Snape was swift with a defensive charm or a dark curse, but he knew when and where to use his wares as diversions, and he was well-versed in healing himself. A Blood-replinishing potion was placed in a pouch on his hip along with a Cauterization concoction, and a dozen others that could save him from an untimely death. Last, but not least, he gleefully snatched a molten gold potion from a shelf full of priceless ingredients. He held his nose and downed the contents, under the guise of reaching down for a fallen artifact. The other men were unaware, having wandered off in search of their own

Snape's smile darkened as he settled into a warm chair by an adjacent fireplace. Reclining further in the luxurious chair, he decided he would wait out the night's events from the vault. He recalled the young elf from earlier, and with a flash of inspiration, he summoned Dobby; the elf produced a fine glass of wine, and Severus grabbed a book from a neighboring shelf, deciding to spend his night perusing the _11__th__ edition of Wizard's Fall: A Historical Perspective._ He wondered how long it would be before the _12__th__ edition_ arrived, complete with a passage on the late Hogwarts Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. Snape snickered at the thought. No one under the influence of liquid luck had reason to worry, not even a revolutionary in the midst of a civil war.

As a dark grey wand came to rest on the back of his neck, however, Snape recognized the folly of his thoughts. Unfortunately for the Dark Lady's most trusted follower, lack of reason had never been a problem for Sirius Black, and his silent _Stupefy_ gave Snape only a brief moment to worry before he succumbed to slumber. It was Sirius' turn to smile as he swept the Invisibility Cloak back over his head, pleased at the sight of his old school nemesis stunned and rendered useless to the Dark Lady's efforts.

His smile dropped when the wine Snape had been drinking fell from his hands, smashing loudly against the carpeted floor. Thinking swiftly, Sirius swept the Invisibility Cloak over Snape's body as well as his own, forced to hide himself from Rabastan, who soon came running into the room with his wand out. Rabastan's thorough examination of the area, as well as the spilled wine, left Sirius hovering rather awkwardly in front of Snape. Barely inches from the man's mouth, Sirius nearly gagged, deciding to hold his breath until he couldn't any longer.

Watching through the cloak, Sirius waited for Rabastan to show signs of confusion; as soon as the youngest Lestrange brother turned, most likely to ask for Augustus' assistance finding Snape, Sirius swept into action. His nonverbal blasting curse hit Rabastan in the side as he made his exit from the room, and his right hip smashed into the door with a resounding echo. Rabastan screamed as his pelvis cracked, but Sirius had aimed too low, and the Death Eater hobbled from the room, making far too much noise for Sirius' comfort. There would be no hiding now. He snatched the Invisibility Cloak off of Snape and swirled it around his shoulders, following Rabastan. He couldn't help berating himself for his poorly aimed curse. He knew his options were limited; he could either run at a clip for the entrance and hope he didn't catch the Dark Lady on the way up, or he could take his chances with Rabastan and Augustus. Either way, he did not appreciate his position as much as he had when Snape was at the tip of his wand.

Augustus made the decision easy for him; the Death Eater had already launched a series of bludgeoning curses by the time Sirius left Snape's side, hurtling the chair, which was thrown across the room by Augustus' onslaught. Snape flopped onto the floor, somehow miraculously uninjured in the melee, and Sirius lost track of his whereabouts as he began defending himself from the barrage of spells. He cast a silver shield that deflected a curse he didn't even recognize and spun, his own offensive curses coming fast and furious. Augustus batted them away, even as Sirius' panic gave way to intense concentration, as he focused on escaping the room in one piece. In the back of his mind, however, he chided himself for his simple miscalculation.

_What the hell did I just get myself into?_

* * *

><p><em>-End of Prologue, Part Four-<em>


End file.
